


let die to let live

by captaincremepuff



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, NSFW, Slow Burn, Songfic, Unrequited Love, one sided boyf riends - Freeform, one sided expensive headphones, trigger warnings will be put in notes before each chapter, unapologetic stagedorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-08-20 16:39:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20231008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaincremepuff/pseuds/captaincremepuff
Summary: "I'll wait it out, and one day he'll get over me.""And if he doesn't?" Christine asks.Michael purses his lips. "He will. They always do."-Unrequited love. Unhealthy coping mechanisms. And Rich’s life, crumbling before his eyes.(title from sex by eden)





	1. Honey Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> (Song: Honey Whiskey by Nothing But Thieves)  
warnings:  
-underage drinking  
-marijuana use  
-self-deprecating thoughts  
-blowjobs  
Seriously, this fic is gonna be majorly NSFW.

> "Black hearted angels sunk me
> 
> With kisses on my mouth
> 
> There's poison in this water
> 
> The words are falling out."

It had started senior year.

The summer before had been hell, of course; Rich, covered with painful scars, having to spend time in the hospital, letting others redress his wounds until he was well enough to do it himself. He had skipped most of his junior year, his school work being sent to either the hospital or his house for him to do. For testing, he was sent to a separate room in the school, apart from the other students, because the school had deemed him ‘unfit’ for human contact until he was on meds and cleared from rehabilitation and physical therapy. Not many people came to visit him while he was in the hospital, unless it was for more information about him starting the fire back at Jake’s house. In most cases, he’d tell them off, hoping that they’d just leave. But… then there was Michael.

You see, Rich had known Michael for a long time, even if he didn’t know Rich quite as well. Before his S.Q.U.I.P, Michael was one of the people who he _ wanted _to approach, but couldn’t. He could argue that people like Michael were the reason he got that damned pill in the first place. Seeing him in the hallway freshman year, being so cool and calm, despite being quite possibly the biggest loser in the entire school. Well, at the time, that was Rich’s title. But things had changed.

Michael was the first to visit him. He had come when Rich was asleep, silently placed Rich’s “Get Well Soon!” bear on his bedside table, and left. He only knew it was Michael who left the bear because one of the nurses asked about him. He really didn’t have much to say at the time, considering that the S.Q.U.I.P was still in his head, controlling what he was saying. He’d have random outbursts during his stay; the evil green tictac having _ a lot _to say about what Rich had tried to do. He was punished severely. The doctors chalked up his fits to being seizures. He wished he could tell them they were wrong.

Coming back to school for his senior year was a nightmare. He had only seen Jake once at his stay in the hospital, and he tried to explain the situation the best he could, but he could see that his friend felt… betrayed, maybe? Considering that the person who Jake thought was his best friend was actually a nervous wreck being controlled by a supercomputer from Japan, and that supercomputer briefly entered _ him _.

Yeah, Rich probably would have been pissed, too.

But, entering the school on the first day back wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be. Some people asked how his scars felt--they felt like absolute _ shit, _ but he didn’t tell them that--and others even bothered to ask how his summer had been. No one brought up the fire.

Rich was even beginning to believe that things would be just as they were before, just like normal. Well, in a way, things _ were _like they used to be. They were like before he had gotten the S.Q.U.I.P. Except, people didn’t avoid him because he was a nerd and a freak with a lisp, they avoided him… because they were scared. As if being the big bad bully wasn’t bad enough for them, he goes nuts and sets a fire? Somehow, being labeled a ‘psycho’ was even worse than being labeled the ‘freak’.

So, yeah, senior year sucked. But it blew past, just like every single teacher had ever told him. He failed most of his classes--the only downside of no longer having a computer in his head giving him all the right answers--but hell, at least he graduated.

But what surprised him the most was Jake, on the last day of school, speed walking up behind him and grabbing him by the shoulder.

“Fucking _ fuck!” _He yelps, embarrassingly high pitched, jumping so the hand was no longer touching him. “Jake,” He breathed out, looking up at his old friend. “Something… something wrong, dude?” He internally cringed at the use of the word ‘dude’, since Jake was, clearly, no longer his ‘dude’.

He could see the clear discomfort on Jake’s face. _ Fuck. What if someone dared him to beat me up? What if he _ wants _ to beat me up? Oh fuck, what if-- _

“I was having a party tomorrow, to celebrate the end of the school year. Just some friends are coming. I figured you’d, I don’t know… want to catch up with the group before we all leave for college?” Jake pulled at the hem of his shirt nervously. “But this time, without any fires…?” Ah, there it was.

Rich wanted to be angry. He wanted to yell in Jake’s face, for having the _ nerve _ to ask him to a _ party _ after avoiding him the entire goddamn year. But he knew he couldn’t do that, even if he tried. So, he composed himself, before tightening the strings on his hoodie (it hides his scars, and sometimes even his face. No wonder Michael loves these things) “I already told you. I don’t do fires anymore.” Which was a big fat lie. Well, kind of. He wanted to say more than that, but the words refused to leave his mouth. _ It’s times like these I wish I had something telling me what to do, _ he thought to himself, resisting the urge to fidget, or bite his lip, or do anything else… well, not cool.

“So… is that a yes?” Jake pointed finger guns at him with an awkward smile.

He rubbed his own face with a hand, exasperated, carefully avoiding the raised scars on his face. “Yes,” Rich sighed, regretting his choice immediately.

* * *

To be fair, the party wasn’t _ that _ bad. It had turned out that Christine was the one that convinced Jake to invite Rich, but either way, it didn’t really matter. Rich was connecting to people his age for the first time in almost a _ year _. He had brought booze--mostly for a bribe to get people to be glad he was there--thanks to his father’s clear drinking problem, his own house had plenty to share. It really wasn’t much; some wine coolers his father had forgotten about in the back of their fridge.

The party was being held in Jake’s grandparent’s basement, which really wasn’t a great place to throw down any sick moves (not like Rich would have wanted to, anyway). There were a few beanbag chairs, a dart board, and a pool table. Really not the best spot for a rockin’ highschool party, but Rich was somewhat glad it wasn’t as intense as some of the other parties he’d been to when he had his S.Q.U.I.P. 

Not many people showed up, just as Jake had told him. Brooke and Chloe, accompanied by Jenna, of course. Jeremy and Michael were best friends once again, so of course they showed up together. Along with Christine and Jake, who seemed to be getting along much better than they had a year prior. Not dating, but still getting along.

For most of the party, Rich sat by himself, taking sips on one--two--then three wine coolers, hating the feeling it left in his mouth. His old friends chatted idly, sometimes engaging themselves in small contests--like who could drink a beer the fastest? (Brooke could) Who can fit the most marshmallows in their mouth? (Christine, surprisingly). He chose not to include himself; he was sure that the people at the party wanted to have their fun together before they all moved away for college.

But Rich was surprised when Michael came over and sat on the floor beside him. “Bored yet?” he asked, his eyes fixated on whatever Jeremy was doing (charades, it looked like)

“I don’t know. It’s not really the same without--” Rich stopped himself, poking at his own head, knowing Michael would know what he was talking about despite him not really elaborating. “I didn’t think you liked parties.” he said, trying to change the subject away from himself.

Michael almost laughed, but chose to wipe his face nervously instead. “I don’t.” He admitted, finally catching Rich’s eye. Rich looked away hurriedly. “But he does,” Rich followed where Michael was pointing, and his eyes landed on Jeremy. The latter seemed like he was having a good time; laughing and trying to guess what Jake was charading, seeming like he fit right into the group. Probably better than Rich ever had. “I’d rather go home and get high, maybe play video games, to be honest.” Michael’s hand fiddled around at his thigh, a tick that Rich had never really noticed before.

“Then why don’t you?” Rich asked, trying to make conversation. He hadn’t really meant it to come out the way that it did--he wasn’t making _ fun _ of Michael, hell, he was probably the _ last _person who would intentionally make someone feel awful, ever since he didn’t have a S.Q.U.I.P. He watched Michael as he thought about it, watching him watch Jeremy, almost as if--

No, no. Michael wasn’t like that. Him and Jeremy were best friends. _ Get your mind out of the gutter, Rich. _ He thought to himself, tearing his eyes away.

“Do you wanna come over to mine?” Michael asked, and it almost seemed impulsive, like he had said the first thing that came to his mind. “I mean, I know Jake invited you over to say goodbye and all, so if you wanted to stay that’s fine, but like--”

“Yeah, hanging out and playing video games sounds better than this,” Rich interrupted, knowing that Michael really didn’t need to explain himself. In all honesty, getting high and cranking out a few levels of Mario sounded _ much _better than being ignored for the rest of the night. He didn’t get up, rather, waiting for Michael to make the first move. Rich had been driven over by his brother, and he wasn’t due to come back and get him until at least eight in the morning, so he was kinda… car-less.

Michael got up from off the ground, grabbing the beer he had been nursing. “Jere, I think I’m gonna head out,” He says, straightening his sweatshirt. “Should I come back and give you a ride, or…?”

“I can drive him home,” Christine piped up from her spot on the pool table.

Michael didn’t seem content with this answer, from what Rich could see from the uncomfortable look on his face. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s no trouble at all--”

“It’s fine, Christine can drive me home. "Get home and get some rest, man. You kinda look like shit,” Jeremy said, with no malice in his words. He was right, Michael kind of did look like shit. Well, it was the kind of shit you look when you just got out of school and have to go to college next year. Jeremy went back to whatever conversation he was having with Jenna--which was probably some gossip Rich really didn’t care about.

Michael helped Rich up, avoiding spilling both their drinks, and they headed out, practically unnoticed by the rest of the group.

Driving back to Michael’s place was awkward, to say the least. His car smelled faintly of pot, which made Rich’s throat run dry. Unwisely he downed the rest of his third wine cooler, despite it really not helping him hydrate. He hadn’t smoked anything since last year, something his S.Q.U.I.P had him do to seem more cool. It wasn’t _bad, _if he was being honest, but he always did stupid shit when he was high. 

To distract himself, he decided he’d send a text to his brother, telling him that he’d be spending the night at a friend’s house (which was technically true). Rich knew his brother wouldn’t see the text until he got up for work, but he figured he wouldn’t remember to even send a text if he were to get high.

The trip wasn’t long, though; close to ten or fifteen minutes. Michael lived just on the outskirts of town, away from most of the clusters of houses. His house was a bit bigger than Rich’s, and a hell of a lot cleaner, at least from the outside. It was probably newer. 

Rich wasn’t bitter about it, though. It’s not like his own house was _ awful _, the worst part about it was just the fact that his father lived in it, so he didn’t have such a good opinion on it.

“My moms are on an anniversary vacation, so the house is pretty much empty,” Michael got out of his car once he pulled into the driveway, waiting by the front of the car until Rich got out. He could see Michael grinning from the solar lights shining around the outside of the house. “Hope you like Mario Kart.”

* * *

Rich couldn’t fathom exactly how he got into this situation. He remembers sitting on the floor to join Michael in playing video games while getting high. That part was explainable; he had pretty much asked for that part.

He couldn’t fathom that, after nearly an hour of playing, he found himself sitting on Michael’s bed with the latter hovering over him, kissing down his neck.

Well, okay, he knows exactly how this happened. He could feel Michael inching closer to him the whole night, whether it was intentional or not. Rich knew that Michael knew they were both into men, and maybe Michael was into him and Rich just didn’t realize. Hell, Michael was attractive, and was _ definitely _Rich’s type, so he wasn’t complaining. He does remember looking over to crack a joke, and they both just kind of… fell into place.

“Oh--oh, _ fuck, _” he sighed when Michael bit particularly hard where his shoulder met his neck. He knew it would leave a mark, which would be a bitch to explain to his brother (and really anyone else who asked).

Michael moved up until his face was in front of Rich’s, gently grabbing at his hair. “Kiss me,” he breathed out, almost closing the gap between them. “Kiss me, kiss me,” he urged, and Rich just couldn’t say no to something like that.

So he kissed him.

And oh, _ god, _ Rich could get used to that. Michael’s lips were soft, and he tasted faintly of alcohol and pot, and something else that was just so distinctly _ Michael. _ All of a sudden Rich desperately wanted to get closer to him, leaning forward so he could wrap his arms around Michael’s neck, biting at his lower lip. He could hear--and _ feel, oh fuck-- _Michael making noises in response. 

The only sounds in the room were the soft music from the game they had left abandoned, and the muffled ones they both made. Rich mentally noted that Michael was fucking _ excellent _at this, and was clearly comfortable with taking the lead. And, hell, Rich was fine with that. He took his time drawing out gentle moans from Michael, who was clearly trying to retrain himself.

Michael would occasionally lick into Rich’s mouth--and _ god _ that was good, Rich would have to ask him where he learned to do _ that _\--and Rich would respond by nipping at his lips, which he soon learned got the best reaction--Michael, whining deep in his throat, all while tightening his grip in Rich’s hair.

Michael lowered him onto the bed, pausing to take a breath. He stared at Rich, lips raw and face flushed red, and after a while he grinned nervously. He let go of his hair, in favor of slipping his hands underneath Rich’s hoodie, feeling around his chest. In any other situation, Rich would have stopped him. The thought of someone feeling up his scars didn’t sound at all good, but he relaxed onto the bed, spreading his arms above his head.

After a few seconds of Michael feeling up his torso, his sweatshirt starting to ride up because of the intrusion, he heard Michael start to snicker, laying his head down in the crevasse of Rich’s neck to start laughing.

“What?” Rich chuckled, his voice already starting to get hoarse. Michael’s hands were still up his shirt, shaking from how he was giggling. His nails were grazing Rich’s sides, making him squirm unintentionally.

Michael looked up until his eyes met Rich’s, trying to contain his laughter. “Do you only have one nipple?” he asked incredulously, feeling around Rich’s chest to confirm his question. Rich took this as an initiative to sit up and remove his sweatshirt, throwing it across the room to be dealt with later. 

Half his chest was covered in awful, ugly scars, ones he hated showing to people, and hated even more seeing himself. “I lost one. During the fire,” Rich tried to laugh. It would have been hilarious in any other situation, but he hadn’t brought up the fire in a _ long _time. But Michael seemed enamoured at his chest, his mouth open--in shock, maybe?--mapping his fingers across the scars.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said quietly, laying a palm against Rich’s torso. “For bringing it up, I mean.” Not wanting to discuss it further, Rich leaned forward to press an eager kiss to his lips, hoping that Michael would understand. The latter grinned, running his fingers through Rich’s hair. It had grown longer since last year, and there was enough of it that he usually kept it in a small ponytail. “You wanna continue, don’t you?” Michael asked, and there was a look on his face that made it look like he wanted to as well.

Rich laid back against the bed, his hair fanning out around him. He tried his best to look appealing, but if he saw himself, he’d probably think he looked more like a fried chicken with hair. “Guilty as charged,” He says, hoping his voice sounded sultry and not desperate. Well, he was a _ little _desperate. Rich held his arms out, making grabbing motions with his hands. “C’mere,” he tugs at Michael’s sweatpants, urging him to take them off.

Michael lifted his iconic red sweatshirt over his head, and _ oh god he’s cute! _ Rich thinks, raking his eyes over Michael’s body. Rich had seen plenty of girls before. They were all attractive, he thought, but he’d never actually _ looked _at any of them this intimately. 

He’d even seen boys changing in the locker rooms at school, despite his S.Q.U.I.P shocking him whenever he stared for too long. But _ Michael. _ He was soft in all the right places, his skin looked smooth with an occasional freckle gracing his body. And _ god, _ if Rich didn’t want to kiss every _ inch _of him. His admiring seemed to make Michael nervous--and he moved to cross his arms over his chest defensively. 

“Nope!” Rich sat up, grabbing at Michael’s arms. “You got to see my missing nipple. I get to see your rockin’ bod.” he says, trying to make it a more serious statement, but _ damn _ his highschool humor, the word _ nipple _made it hard to keep a straight face.

“But…” Michael breaths.

“But what?”

“I’m… _ soft, _” He says shamefully, averting his gaze from Rich’s.

Rich stops, his mouth opening, but no words coming out. He had his own awful, _ shitty _ insecurities, and had never really stopped to think that Michael had his own as well. He purses his lips, “And when has that _ ever _ been a problem?” he says truthfully, feeling up Michael’s sides just to prove his point. This made Michael grin, and Rich took that as an _ absolute _win. “Now get up here and sit on my face or else I’ll just jerk off myself,” He mutters in Michael’s ear, and he could feel the other shiver.

Rich lays back down and watches as Michael struggles to get his sweatpants off, pulling them away from his body and leaving himself in only a pair of boxers.

Rich pat at his own, gesturing for Michael to come and take a seat. He does, almost straddling Rich’s neck, but not uncomfortably so. _ Hell yeah, _ Rich thinks to himself, partly due to the fact that oh _ fuck _Michael’s hot, and also because this is Rich’s first time performing a fucking blowjob.

“You ever done this before?” Michael asks, already out of breath, as if he were reading Rich’s mind.

“Nope,” Rich says confidently, grabbing at Michael’s thighs. Although Michael didn’t at all seem off-put by this comment, it did make him seem a little more apprehensive. Rich kissed at Michael’s thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin to make Michael feel more comfortable. 

Michael made little noises as he pulled his dick out of his underwear, ones that made Rich squirm from underneath him, desperate for some type of pressure on his _ own _ dick. _ Later, _Rich thought, taking a breath. He pushed Michael’s hands away, the latter using this as an opportunity to put his hands over his mouth to mask any sounds.

Rich brought the tip to his tongue, giving it an experimental lick. _ Oh, _he thinks, finding himself twitching from the taste alone. He guided Michael closer to his mouth, taking a breath through his nose as he started to bob his head; a simple rhythm set that was comfortable for both of them. Which was clear, judging by the sounds Michael was beginning to make. Rich could feel fingers threading into his hair, grabbing tightly. He moaned, the vibrations making Michael sigh.

Michael’s smell was all around him, and it was beginning to be intoxicating. His cock was hot and heavy on his tongue, making him reach down and start palming himself through his jeans. He whimpered, allowing Michael to start taking the lead again, pushing himself deeper into Rich’s mouth. 

He could tell that Michael was holding back--which was probably for the best--but to make up for his lack of skill, Rich decided to wrap a hand around whatever part of Michael’s dick he couldn’t fit in his mouth, pumping his hand to match the rhythm that Michael set.

Rich swallowed when Michael pushed deeper into his mouth, ripping a moan from the other’s throat. After that, he made sure the same thing each time Michael pushed closer to his throat. Rich grabbed at Michael’s thigh, his fingers digging into the flesh as he breathed rhythmically through his nose. 

He finally caved when Michael gripped at his hair shockingly hard, and he shoved his hand down his pants to try _ something _to relieve himself. He tried stroking himself at the same pace that Michael had set, but he was too keyed up to go slow.

Rich decided to challenge himself, pulling back to take a breath, and pushing until he could feel his nose press against Michael’s abdomen. The grip in his hair tightened impossibly so, and Michael swore loudly, his hand no longer muffling any of his sounds. Rich pulled back again, making sure to lick tentatively at the precum pouring from the tip, and did the same thing again. 

He gagged this time, his hand squeezing at Michael’s thigh. The feeling, which was very new to him, made him feel horny out of his _ mind. Fuck fuck-- _ He tightened his grip on his own dick, trying to fight against the feeling deep in his stomach. He whimpered, rubbing his thighs together as he felt himself come, in his pants, like a fucking _ loser. _

“_ Fuck! _” Michael grabbed at Rich’s head, pulling himself from the other’s mouth. Rich gasped for air, his face flushed with his bottom lip and chin covered with a mix of spit and precum. He made a show of licking it off, and looked up to see Michael’s reddened face. Michael could see the confusion on his face. “I didn’t… want to come in your mouth,” He admits, shifting nervously.

Rich pushed at his thighs until he was straddling closer to his stomach, allowing Rich to sit up halfway. He used one hand to prop himself up, and the other grabbed at Michael’s spit-slicked cock. He started pumping his hand, catching any precum that threatened to spill over, making it easier to jerk Michael off.

“Oh, _ fuck, _” Michael groans, burying his face in the crook of Rich’s neck. He could feel Michael’s hot breath against him, warming his body impossibly so. Rich could feel the other’s thighs shake against his sides, both from the effort of holding himself up, and the fact that he was probably dangerously close. Rich sped his hand up, turning his head over to bite at Michael’s neck. He heard him gasp and swear loudly, and he could feel as the come began to drip off his hand and onto his stomach.

Rich leaned back, squeezing down at the base of Michael’s dick, pulling his hand upward to watch a glob of come dribble out. “Oh _ god _that’s hot,” Rich said out loud, unconsciously wiping his sticky hand on his pants.

“And that’s disgusting,” Michael said, gesturing to his now come-stained blue jeans 

“It’s fine, I’ll be taking them off,” Rich says, and the fact comes crashing down on him that he creamed his jeans like a _ virgin. _ “I’m--” He starts, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. “That was uh, really hot, and…” he swallows, still tasting Michael in his mouth. He starts unbuttoning his jeans, Michael still content to straddle his stomach.

“And what?” Michael grins, clearly enjoying himself. 

Rich unzips himself, feeling the instant relief despite not even being hard anymore. Rather than finishing his statement, he chooses that it would be best to demonstrate rather than embarrass himself further by talking. He grabs Michael’s hand, and the other raises an eyebrow at this, but Rich guides the hand to his pants, and--

“_ Oh my god, _” Michael says. He grins, but he doesn’t seem like he’s trying to make fun of Rich for it. Michael leans in, kissing Rich once, twice, and then a third time, before wiping his hand on Rich’s ruined jeans. “I’ll get you some clothes to change into,” lips still barely touching his. But he doesn’t get up immediately, opting to stay and stare into Rich’s eyes, as if he were contemplating something.

After a few dozen seconds--although it feels like minutes to Rich--Michael gets up, walking to a small dresser shoved into one of the corners of his room. Rich looked away awkwardly when Michael changed his own pants. _ You just sucked his dick not even five minutes ago _, his mind supplied helpfully, but he still didn’t look back.

He felt a piece of fabric hit his head, draping over his face to obstruct his vision. Rich pulled them off his head to find that the fabric was a pair of grey sweatpants. He got up off the bed, peeling his pants and boxers of his sweaty skin, and he looked up to see Michael staring at him. 

“What?” he asked, starting to pull the pair of sweatpants over his legs. 

Michael noticed that Rich had caught him staring, and he blushed. “Nothing, I just…” He stopped, rubbing his hands together nervously. He was just wearing a tanktop and boxers, which was not something Rich saw on him very often. _ Cute, _Rich thought to himself. “You’re hot,” Michael blurted out, pursing his lips in embarrassment immediately.

Rich did not think of himself as ‘hot’. In fact, he didn’t really think of himself at all. After the fire, he couldn’t work out because of the sensitive scabs covering his body from the burns. And even after the scar fell away, leaving mangled, pink flesh, he had fallen out of his routine, and couldn’t find himself doing any physical activity. He wasn’t the man he used to be, but this definitely beat having a super computer in his brain. “Whatever you say, Mell,” He says, grabbing his dirty pants.

Rich turned around to walk out, but he heard Michael pipe up. “You’re not staying?” He didn’t sound disappointed per se, more surprised than anything. 

He turned back around at that, resisting the urge to stim. Although his S.Q.U.I.P was gone, he still found himself holding back some of his mental urges when he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Do you want me to stay?”

Michael made a face like he was thinking about it. Rather than answering, he walks over to his bed to sit down, and beckons Rich to come over. Rich drops his dirty laundry on the ground and sits down next to Michael. “I do want you to stay, but…” He pauses, like he was trying to figure out how to explain his situation. “Jeremy will be over at nine in the morning tomorrow, so like…”

“I get it,” Rich says, waving a hand nonchalantly. He was a little hurt. Spending the following day with Michael sounded like a really good time, but if Michael wasn’t ready for his best friend to know about this yet, then he would respect that choice. “I’ll be gone before then. You won’t even realize I left.”

Michael seemed pleased with this answer, given the fact that he didn’t push the topic further. He merely rolled over to the side of his bed closest to the wall, facing away from Rich. 

Rich laid down, also facing away from Michael. He leaned off the bed to grab his phone from his pants pocket, setting himself an alarm far before nine, giving him enough time to both gather his belongings and get out of the house without Michael noticing. He shoved his phone in one of the sweatpants pockets, so the vibrations would only wake him and not the boy sleeping next to him.

_ Michael. _

What would he think when he woke up? He seemed to be uncomfortable with others knowing about them. Rich felt guilt swelling up in his chest. Maybe Michael had been far drunker than Rich had thought, and the combination of the alcohol and pot had made him do something he’d regret later. Rich could feel tears welling around his eyes, and he quickly wiped them away.

_ Fucking baby, _ he thought to himself, trying to not make noises while he cried. _ It’s going to be fine, _he told himself, but he didn’t actually believe it.

And he fell asleep, feeling more hollow than he had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it's cha boy back at it again with another song fic (except this time i'm planning on finishing this one) There will be a song that corresponds with each chapter. I recommend listening to them before you start the chapter but it's you're choice!
> 
> also I still don't know how this site works despite having this account for nearly two years so bear with me while I try and figure this shit out. also, some things to note:  
-i will be updating weekly. if i cannot make the update, a warning will be put in the notes of the new update.  
-I am very open for suggestions! I have a very good idea where I want this fic to go, but if you have any scenes you really wanna see, i will try my best to write them in.  
-I tried to keep the tags as non-cluttered as possible, but I will be putting warnings before each chapter, this fic is gonna contain some pretty heavy stuff. please keep that in mind.
> 
> If you have any questions about where this fic will go (or even if you just want to talk about expensive headphones with me) please do NOT hesitate to dm me! I love talking to people about my works!  
tumblr: captaincremepuff  
instagram: captaincremepuff (you are MUCH more likely to reach me on here!)


	2. Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I slept with him," he uttered, his words muffled by his hands.
> 
> “WHAT!” Christine squealed. She looked way too pleased with this answer. "I knew it."
> 
> "You did not," Rich said, drawing out his words to express his doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Song: Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? by Arctic Monkeys)
> 
> warnings:  
-mentioned character death  
-referenced abuse  
-use of f slur  
-mentioned marijuana use  
-mentioned underage drinking  
This chapter delves a little into what I headcanon to be Rich's past.  
It gets heavy pretty quickly and yes I am TRYING to break this boy.

> “It sort of feels like I’m running out of time 
> 
> I haven’t found what I was hoping to find
> 
> You said you got to be up in the morning
> 
> Gonna have an early night
> 
> And you're starting to bore me, baby,
> 
> Why'd you only call me when you're high?”

Rich awoke to the feeling of his phone vibrating in his pants. Groggily, he reached down into his pocket to turn off the alarm, before closing his eyes again.

_ That’s weird. I don’t usually wear sweatpants to bed, _he thinks, before realizing. Rich nearly sits up all too fast, but rationally stops himself. Partly because of the pounding headache he already had from a night of pure indulgence, and partly because he had promised he wouldn’t wake Michael the night before.

Checking his phone, he instantly regretted the time he had set to wake up. His brother was already due to be working by this time, and there was no way in hell that his father would come and pick him up from a _ boy’s _ house. _ How the _ fuck _ am I supposed to get home?! _ Rich panics, getting up--carefully-- to grab his own pants from the floor. Bits and pieces from last night come flooding back. _ Ah, right, I came in my fucking pants. _

He scrolls through his contacts on his phone, hoping to find someone to text for a ride. After a few seconds of scrolling, his eye catches a familiar name.

_ Christine! _

He opens the chat, seeing texts that had been exchanged from last year. He had been partners with Christine for a school project, but he spotted texts he hadn’t noticed before.

_ ~november 1st~ _

_ christine: hey rich! I heard you were in the hospital. I hope you get better soon _

_ Text me if you ever need anything. even if you just need to talk. _

_ ~november 3rd~ _

_ christine: jeremy said you were doing okay! I hope rehab is alright. we’re _

_ cheering for you buddy! :))) _

Rich had guess that in the chaos that was his recovery, these texts went completely unseen. He felt guilty, for a moment, but quickly remembered that he and Christine had quite a few conversations in the past during senior year. She seemed to be the only person in the school who believed he was actually sane. Rich just chalked it up to the fact that Christine was also very close with Jeremy, who probably explained the S.Q.U.I.P situation fully.

** _me: hey christine!! I kinda need a favor lol_ **

Rich was prepared to wait for the response, so he put his sweatshirt back on and creeped out of Michael’s room. He took the time to remember the layout of the house, and decided that going out the rear door would avoid any conversations with anyone who might pass by. He opened his phone to see that Christine had responded almost immediately.

_ christine: i’d love to help out!! Im about to drive jeremy to michael’s house _

_ but im open to give ya some assistance, dude :) _

** _me: yea uh about that_ **

_ christine: ??? _

** _me: im at michael’s house rn. I kinda need a ride and _ **

** ** ** _ I promised him id be gone before jeremy gets here_ **

_ christine: WHAT. _

_ christine; im sorry but why are you at michael’s house _

_ in the first place??? ;)))) _

** _me: CHRISTINE PLEASE._ **

** _me: i literally just need a ride and that’s it. Plz_ **

**_txt me when jere gets inside so he doesn’t_**

** ** ** _see me. Im out back rn._ **

_ christine: i’ll be there in like twenty minutes _

** _me: OH MY GOD THANK YOU CHRISTINE_ **

And so Rich sat on the back porch, waiting for the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. He knew that where he was sitting, no one standing at the front of the house would see him, but he still had a nervous feeling in his chest that he’d be seen by someone, especially Jeremy. Rich didn’t really get why _ he _was nervous; he didn’t mind that he had slept with Michael. It wasn’t embarrassing in the slightest. There’s nothing embarrassing about the love one man feels for another.

Well, maybe not _ love, _but still.

He was more nervous about the fact that if Michael found _ out _someone saw Rich, he’d probably never talk to him again. Maybe he wouldn’t go to an extreme like that, but it was still nerve-wracking, waiting for Christine to send him a text saying it was safe to come out from behind the house.

But it did give him plenty of time to think. Rich was still collecting little details from last night. He was stuck wondering, what had made Michael _ want _to sleep with him? Rich certainly hadn’t been the best person the past year, though he had made great strides trying to get his confidence back after he lost the one thing that gave him completely unearned confidence for nearly two years.

He had noticed that many of his symptoms of mental disorder had crept back up. Before, he’d be violently shocked--literally--if he showed any sign of something wrong, but with no filter, his ticks were back; he chewed his nails, he scratched at his skin, he moved in the rhythm his brain was always in.

All of that didn’t really seem like any reason to sleep with someone, though. 

To Rich, at least, Michael seemed _ way _ out of his league. Sure, he was kind of a nerd and liked weird, old school music and drank discontinued soda, but… He seemed to exude a kind of confidence that Rich didn’t have even after years of conditioning. In the mind of most teenagers, Michael didn’t _ deserve _to have the type of coolheadedness he had. It’s not like he does that much with himself besides playing video games and smoking pot, which seems like something someone would do if they lived with their parents long after they graduated. 

But Michael isn’t like that at all. He does well in school, from what Rich could see, even if it wasn’t Harvard-level intelligence. His charisma is completely unexpected, from how he carried himself. Sweatshirt, glasses, headphones… Michael just seemed like he was the type of person who would stumble through his order at a fast food restaurant, but _ no. _

Although social life definitely wasn’t Michael’s scene, he was still able to keep up with any conversation anyone threw at him, even if he knew nothing about that person. Rich knew that if a stranger were to talk to _ him, _he’d probably shrink in on himself and wait for someone to come and save him from the inevitable embarrassment that was Rich interacting with people. So, with that being said…

What were Rich and Michael?

Rich really didn’t have any answer to that question. Without Michael’s mutual agreement, he really could gauge exactly what that night even meant. Maybe Michael had been looking for a moment to make a move for a long time (which made Rich anxious enough to bite at the skin around his nails)

Or, maybe, this had been a one-time thing. Maybe Michael would go off to college, and then they’d never speak about last night again (which made Rich scratch at his arm instinctively, making it sting and warm up)

Rich stopped when he heard the sound of a car door slam shut. In his panic, he hadn’t even noticed that a car had driven up the driveway, which was completely out of his sight-line. He listened as the person--who he could only assume to be Jeremy--walk up the gravel path leading to Michael’s house, open the door to the sound of a dog barking (Rich hadn’t remembered a dog) and then the door was shut again. Rich felt like he could breathe again, and he patiently waited for Christine to give any signal it was alright for him to come out from behind the house.

_ christine: hey jeremy just got inside so like _

_ christine: please come get in my car before _

_ I drive off without you _

** _me: you wouldn’t do that to me and we _ **

** _both know that._ **

_ christine: okay but in exchange you will tell _

_ me ONE detail from last night _

** _me; you drive a hard fuckin bargain, _ **

** ** ** _canigula, but alright. lets do this_ **

Rich ran out from behind the house, which was kind of unnecessary considering there was no immediate threat to him. He sees Christine sitting in her old, beat up car. He wasn’t sure about the model, but he knew it was a Chevy, and it had probably been made before he was even in highschool. Rich also knew it was technically a hand-me-down, something that one of Christine’s parents had gifted her when she turned sixteen since they _ definitely _weren’t using that piece of junk anymore. Even though the car sucked, it was kind of Christine’s baby, so she didn’t get rid of it.

Rich clambered into the passenger side door, shoving his still-soiled jeans on the floor by his feet. “Drive,” He says, slamming his door unnecessarily hard.

“Jesus, Rich,” Christine says, pulling out of the driveway. “You look like fresh shit.” she says abruptly upon seeing him, looking like she didn’t mean anything by it. In fact, it looked like she was getting ready to apologize, so Rich had to cut in before they had to have _ that _conversation.

“Yeah, I know. That’s what I get for going to a party for the first time since I set a fuckin’ fire.” Rich says, rolling his eyes. He didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh, he was saying it in more of a self-deprecating way, but he could tell that even the _ mention _of the fire put Christine on edge. “Sorry,” Rich mumbled, uncharacteristically soft.

He could tell that didn’t make Christine much less tense, but at least he tried. “It’s fine,” She said, and Rich knew she didn’t really mean it. “What happened with you guys?” She says, changing the subject, and she wiggles her eyebrows, torn between keeping eye contact during their conversation and avoiding crashing her car. “You promised me deets.”

Rich groaned, not ready to talk about it yet. But he did, in fact, promise Christine details in exchange for the ride, so there was really no turning back now. He covered his face with both hands, rocking back and forth nervously. “I slept with him,” he uttered, the words muffled by his hands. Rich could feel his face heat up in embarrassment.

“_ WHAT!” _ Christine squealed, a surprised open-mouthed grin on her face. She looked way too pleased with this answer, almost giddy. “I knew it,” She said, all too smugly.

“You did not,” Rich said, drawing out his words to express his doubt in her statement. “There was literally no way to tell this was going to happen. _ I _didn’t even know it was going to happen.” 

That wasn’t to say that Rich _ regret _ that it happened. It wasn’t like that at all. But the fact that Michael and him went from ‘barely-talking’ to ‘literally-having-sex- _ oh-god’ _in one night was surprising to him, but apparently not to Christine.

Christine laughed at this, wiping a fake tear from her face. “Are you kidding? That’s like, text-book level hookup. Two dudes, drunk at a party, deciding to just _ go home _ together? Rich, that’s like a fanfiction. This is just like a fanfiction,”

Rich ran his fingers through his hair, feeling his whole face warm up in embarrassment. “This is _ not _ a fanfiction!” 

He couldn’t see, but he could _ swear _that Christine rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to drop you off at your place, or is there somewhere else you’d rather go?” she asked, leaning towards Rich while keeping her eyes on the road.

_ Shit, _ Rich remembered that he’d have to deal with his father when he got home, which he most certainly did _ not _want to do. Especially if he was already drunk. Rich made a noise similar to a groan and rubbed at his head, closing his eyes.

“You could hang out at my house, if you want,” Christine suggested, almost as if she were reading his mind. “I mean, my dads are home, but I really don’t think they care that much.”

“Wait,” Rich said, processing this information. “You’ve got two dads? Why didn’t I know about this?”

Christine shrugged, combing her hair out of her face. “I don’t know? I thought everyone knew. I mean, they’ve been to all my performances. Like, Michael’s got two moms? He doesn’t talk about that a lot.”

“Michael’s moms are literally all he talks about, Christine. Whenever I saw him, he was talking about, like, some trip he took with his moms.” Rich tried to remember an example, but gave up when the conversation went silent after a while. His voice went quiet when he spoke, “But yeah, I… I guess hanging out with you would be okay. I don’t think my dad is gonna be very happy.”

“Sure thing, man,” Christine said, and the conversation ended after that. Rich was partially glad she didn’t bring up his father, who was probably already passed out on the couch right now. 

Rich also knew that he would be furious that his son was at another guys’ house, especially since that guy is very openly homosexual. Rich recalls the conversations him and his father had when his older brother had left for college (only to be forced back home to care for his alcoholic father)

_ “If I ever--EVER--see you with another boy, I will kill you. Do you hear me, Richard? I will _ not _ tolerate a faggot in this house.” _

_ “Yes, dad.” _

_ “What did I tell you about calling me that?” _

_ “Sorry, d-- I mean, sir.” _

Rich tried not to visibly shudder. That conversation had been right before he got the S.Q.U.I.P, and right after he had gotten the courage to come out to his father. It never happened, though. A confession like that would lead to Rich being locked in a closet for a night, which was a very disturbing metaphor.

Oh, _ god, _what was he going to tell his dad?

Him and his brother had made a pact, at the beginning of Rich’s junior year, right after his brother was forced to drop out and come back home. They told each other that as soon as Rich was accepted into a college and got housing of his own, they would abandon their father, together. 

But Rich could tell that the unearned pity they both had for their father was holding both of them back. Rich almost didn’t apply for any colleges. His brother pays the bills, since his father had been unemployed for quite some time.

They both remembered a time when their father was happy. That was before their mother died.

Rich’s father had used to be a priest in their local church. They’d go every Sunday, as a family, and attended church events and sermons. Rich could remember the stuffy suits his father had him wear--”_ You look sharp, Richard. Own it.”-- _and how his mother would hold his hand when the people of the church would dote on him, because she knew it made him uncomfortable.

He remember their family meals--his father used to be the best chef--and their biweekly trips for ice cream at a shop in the next town over. Sometimes they’d drive past an abandoned apple orchard, and Rich would imagine what it would be like to tour the place, with no one else there. He’d bet it would have been quiet, and the trees would have been overgrown like in horror movies his brother had him watch when he was way too young to see stuff like that.

His mother would talk about college with his brother, since she was lucky enough to get full-ride and was a nurse at the local hospital. She knew that Enzo--Rich’s brother--was not interested in the medical field. He was much more interested in engineering, but his mother could talk for hours about the colleges she _ almost _ applied to, and then the ones she _ did _apply to, but didn’t get accepted into. And they would both listen, despite Rich not really knowing what many of the words really meant.

That all ended when his mother was killed.

It was a drunk driver. She was coming home from a late shift at the hospital, and Rich’s father allowed him and Enzo to stay up _ way _ past their bedtimes for her to get home to surprise her. It was her birthday. Her _ fucking _birthday.

He couldn’t recall many of the details, he was just entering middle school at the time. Rich was old enough to know the concept of death, but could never comprehend that something like that could happen to _ his _family.

He knew that when the driver crashed into his mom’s car, she went over the guard rail, and down a slope. They wouldn’t let Rich and his brother see her body. At the time, he didn’t know what they meant by that. He did now.

Rich could remember the police lights, and the pounding on his door. He could remember watching his father’s face drop as the cop talked to him. He could remember Enzo--much more wise than he was--bringing him upstairs so that little-him wouldn’t hear any of the conversation.

_ “Where’s mommy?” _ Rich had asked, sneaking downstairs after Enzo had fallen asleep next to him.

_ “She’s not coming home,” _His dad said, cracking his first beer, his voice completely emotionless.

“Rich, are you okay?” he heard Christine say, jolting him out of his daydream. He didn’t realize he had started crying. They were parked in a driveway, and he could only assume it was Christine’s house.

“I’m…” he started, not really knowing what to say. His voice was wavering and he couldn’t seem to stop the stream of tears down his face. “No, I’m not.”

* * *

It had been three days since Rich had slept with Michael. 

And three whole days since they last spoke to each other. Rich wasn’t expecting anything different; he would have been surprised if Michael even remembered their night together.

Christine had been, thankfully, filling him in on what Michael had been doing lately--courtesy of Jeremy’s vast inside knowledge--and from what she told Rich, Michael hadn’t brought up anything about that night to Jeremy. In fact, he had told him that after the party, he had merely went home, played video games, and passed out. Which was partly true.

Except for the fact he left out an entire, crucial detail.

Rich wasn’t exactly disappointed by the fact that Michael didn’t want to tell Jeremy about their night; the only person Rich had told was Christine, so no, that’s not what was bothering him.

It was the fact that Michael either didn’t actually remember--which was a reason that Rich could live with--or that Michael was embarrassed by the fact that he could even be _ associated _with Rich. It could have been easier to say that him and Michael had spent the night playing video games, considering that Jeremy and Michael do the same exact thing all the time. 

But Michael didn’t ever think to include Rich in the picture.

Rich was laying down on his bed, contemplating pretty much everything he had said to Michael that night. Was it something he did? Or was he just so disgusting that Michael realized in the morning that even _ thinking _about Rich while sober made him sick?

Well, it probably wasn’t that, but Rich couldn’t help his mind from wandering to the worst possible scenario.

While he was deep in his thoughts, Rich could feel his phone vibrating next to him on his bed, over and over, with only a few seconds of space in between each vibration. It was almost like someone was sending him multiple, very short texts. He lifted his phone, expecting it to be Christine giving him new Michael-related information, but was surprised when he saw the contact name.

_ headphones nerd: rich _

_ headphones nerd: hey r ich _

_ headphones nerd: plz respond _

_ headphones nerd: my finger is literally hovering over _

_ t_ _he call button plz respond _

Rich’s whole body went numb, and he was unsure on how to go about this situation. No amount of thinking would prepare him for _ actually _having to confront Michael about this. But he figured if he didn’t respond to the text, he would definitely be getting a call within the next few minutes.

_ Just play dumb, _Rich thought to himself before typing in a reply

** _me: whats up man_ **

_ Not _ that _ dumb! _ Rich mentally slapped himself at his attempt to be casual. At least it _ seemed _like something he'd say.

_ headphones nerd: jere just left for a date w/ _

_ christine and. idk _

_ headphones nerd: just bored I guess _

_ headphones nerd: and a little horny _

Rich knew he was treading through dangerous waters. There were a few things this could mean. One: Michael remembered what happened after the party, and is finally contacting Rich about it. Two: He doesn’t actually remember, and he is just now realizing he has any attraction for Rich, thus texting him when he wants to jerk it. Or, possibly the strangest and Rich’s least favorite: He has no interest in Rich, and he’s just so open that he tells his acquaintances when he’s horny.

Rich debated even replying at all, what with his mind running through all the possible options. He also thought about desperately texting Christine for advice, since she was the only other person who knew about his situation.

Steeling himself, he attempted to sound unphased in his reply.

** _me: are u high lol_ **

** _me: i mean there’s nothing wrong _**

**_ with that. but like._ ** ** _It’s in the _ **

**_ middle of the day. so,_ **

_ headphones nerd: im not high and its _

_ stupid of u _ _to think so _

_ headphones nerd: but do u remeber that _

_ time in fourth grade _

** _me: you’re definitely high and I also _**

** _ have no idea what _ ** ** _you’re _ **

**_ talking about._ **

_ headphones nerd: im not!!! _

_ headphones nerd: but anyways _

_headphones nerd: u were here fir fourth_

_ grade rihgt???_

** _me: we’ve been going to the same_**

** _ school since pre-k _ ** ** _so yes._ **

_ headphones nerd: I knew it!!!!! okay but like _

_ headphones nerd: idk we were in first grade. _

_ Same _ _homeroom class or whatevr. _

_headphones nerd: like our teachers name _ _was _

_ ms. armbrust or smething _

_ stupid like that_

_ headphones nerd: but it was the first day and _

_ my moms _ _dropped me off _

_ because there just like that_

** _me: they’re**_ **

_ headphones nerd: i know don’t interupt me _

_ sotry. _

_ headphones nerd: but like all these kids were making _

_ fun of me!! cuz i have two moms. _

_ headphones nerd: and of course jere didn’t stop _

_ any of them bc he hates confrontaion _

_ headphones nerd: dont correct that i know i spelt it worng _

_ headphones nerd: dont correct that one either _

** _me: i really dont see where this is going _**

**_ but okay_ **

_ headphones nerd: but like??? you just came over _

_ and you were all small a nd cute _

_ and you had _ _glasses back then _

_ and i forgt about that until_

_ just now _

** _me: i have contacts now but yeah_ **

_ headphones nerd: rich dont interupt me!!!! _

_ This _ _story will pay off i swear _

_ headphones nerd: but like ypu pretty much told _

_ the kids mocking me to fuck off _

_ headphones nerd: but you didnt say fuck bc _

_ you were too nice back then _

_ headphones nerd: and then you sat next to _

_ me in class and talked to me _

_ about the ice_ _cream place your _

_ family always goes to _ _so i was _

_ distracted and wouldnt cry_

_ headphones nerd: what was it called again _

_ I cant remember _

** _me: a la mode? I dont remember this story_ **

**_ but continue_ **

_ headphones nerd: i know u dont because _

_ that was the type of thing_

_ you would do _ _all the time in _

_ elem school!!! _

_ headphones nerd: you were so nice _ _to evertyone _

_ but no one ever paid any_

_ attention to you _

Rich didn’t have many memories from elementary school. He didn’t have many friends back then, other than Enzo, but his brother was two years older than him and there weren’t many opportunities to hang out when their schedules were so different. 

He truly didn’t remember the story that Michael was referring to, and didn’t get the point of him telling it. But he was sure that Michael was high off his mind right now, so he just let it happen.

_ headphones nerd: idk im sorry if that was weird _

_ headphones nerd: ive been thinking abt u all day _

_ and that was the first time we _

_ ever talked so like _ _I thought id _

_ share it with u_

The fact that Michael was thinking about Rich _ at all _ made his heart throb in his chest. He didn’t know why he felt this way about Michael, since he really didn’t have that many prior contact with him before the party, aside from occasionally trading notes in a class they were both in.

** _me: that was sweet of you, thank you michael._ **

**_ now please get some sleep because you _ **

**_ are clearly extremely high right now._ **

_ headphones nerd: but like wait _

_ headphones nerd: thats not really why i texted you _

_ headphones nerd: it sounds really weird in my head _

_ but maybe its not as weird as _

_ i think_ _ since u you know _

_ headphones nerd: gave me a blowjob after jakes _

_ party _

There it was. Rich was hoping he wouldn’t bring it up, but he really couldn’t expect much sense to come out of Michael when he was like this.

_ headphones nerd: but like i dont regret it!!! _

_ headphones nerd: im sorry my phrasing was _

_ bad i didn’t mean to make it _

_ sound like it _ _was a mistake _

_ headphones nerd: it sounds weird in words but _

_ that was like the enitre reason _

_ i invited you over _

Rich’s mind was racing. The fact that Michael both remembered the night after the party, _ and _invited Rich over for the--not so pure--purpose of sleeping with him made Rich’s stomach flutter with anticipation. Maybe something would come out of this after all, and he wasn’t just hopelessly dreaming about a possible relationship. Maybe it would all work out.

_ headphones nerd: okay im rambling and youre not _

_ responding which makes me all the _

_ more nervous _ _to ask you what i _

_ was gonna ask you_

** _me: i didnt wanna interrupt your ramblings_ **

** _me: but yeah_ **

** _me: i dont regret it either. i had a _ **

**_ nice time with you_ **

_ headphones nerd: okay that makes me feel bettter _

_ headphones nerd: but i texted you cuz like _

_ headphones nerd: do you wanna come over? _

_ for the night _

_ headphones nerd: im srry thta sounded really _

_ weird _

For a moment, Rich considered refusing Michael’s offer. It would have been easy, too. Rich would just have to not respond, and it would be over. They’d both go to college and probably never talk again, and their night spent in each other’s company would be forgotten. Like passing ships in the night, or some other cliche phrase similar to that.

The thought of that made Rich feel sick, though.

** _me: ill be over in thirty minutes_ **

And with that, Rich pocketed his phone while he got up from his bed. He didn’t know what he would wear, but he figured he’d change since he’d been in the same clothes for nearly two whole days.

_ A flannel isn’t too fancy, right? _ He thought to himself, but already knew the answer to that question.

He got changed--pretty much just a flannel and sweatpants--and tied his hair up into what he hoped was a decent hair style. Jogging down the stairs, he stopped when he saw his brother sitting on the couch.

“Oh. I forgot you were off work today,” Rich said, slipping on his shoes.

Enzo shrugged, taking a sip out of a water bottle without looking up. “Where are you off to? Dad’ll be home in like, an hour.” He said, finally giving Rich the decency of actually looking up from his device.

Rich shifted, not really sure of what to say. He hadn’t exactly told Enzo about many people from school, especially not Michael. “I’m, uh… Just going to a friend’s house.” He half-lied, tugging at his flannel nervously.

“Huh,” Enzo said, clearly suspicious. He put his water bottle on the floor next to his chair and turned off his phone, “Do you need a ride? Dad took the car, but I’m sure I could take you in the truck if you wanna ride.”

Rich shifted in his spot, considering Enzo’s offer. He _ really _ didn’t want to take his dad’s truck anywhere. It was old as _ fuck _ , possibly even older than Rich himself. It was broken beyond repair but was still able to run just as smoothly as their newer car, even if it llooked like absolute shit. But he figured it was either the truck, or he’d have to call someone else to drive him (and he _ definitely _ wasn’t ready to tell Christine--or anyone else he decided to call--that he was going to Michael’s-- _ again. _)

“I mean, yeah… I… I guess I could use a ride,” Rich responded, trying not to regret his choice. 

Enzo stood up and stretched, and Rich could hear his back pop. He must have been sitting in the same spot all day, and was probably bored as hell, which is most likely the only reason he offered Rich a ride in the first place.

“Get the keys before I change my mind,” Enzo said, with no malice behind his words. Rich left to retrieve said keys with a fake salute, and with that, they left for the long drive to Michael’s house.

* * *

After a while, they had a system. 

Once a week, Rich would come over--almost always at Michael’s request--and they’d let off some steam together. Sometimes they’d be high, sometimes they’d get drunk, and sometimes they’d be both. 

Rich was encouraged to stay the night--with little to no cuddling, to Rich’s absolute dismay--but he was to be gone before ten in the morning (or if Jeremy was coming the next morning, even earlier). Sometimes he’d be invited to breakfast (or even more rarely: dinner) and he’d have to listen to Michael explain to his mothers that him and Rich were just good friends, “Just like me and Jeremy are,” he’d say.

It didn’t take long to realize that he was in love with Michael.

Rich didn’t remember exactly when it hit him, probably when he was falling asleep and he had to confront himself in his thoughts about _ why _Michael made him feel this way, and why he got butterflies whenever Michael laughed at one of his stupid jokes, or why it made him lightheaded when Michael kissed him.

And it was fucking horrifying. Him and Michael both knew that their relationship was nothing romantic; just two guys having sex once and a while, nothing more.

Sometimes Rich would try and gauge Michael’s reactions to certain actions, to see if anything could be taken as an attraction that was more than physical. Rich couldn’t say confidently he had gotten anything useful out of that, though. He did, thankfully, know the face Michael made when he was clearly smitten, though.

It was when he looked at Jeremy.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that Michael had it _ bad _for his best friend, but it hurt Rich to think about. Him and Jeremy had history, but him and Rich? What did they have?

Sure, Rich was able to know exactly what made Michael tick, and where he liked being grabbed best, and how he kissed. But Jeremy could tell anyone what Michael’s favorite level in his favorite game was, and what he dressed as for Halloween when they were both seven, and what restaurant was the best for getting Michael’s favorite sushi.

Rich couldn’t compete with that.

Outside of their limited encounters, Rich knew absolutely nothing. There was really no need to ask, either. They were each other’s stress relief and that was it. Rich wished he could learn more about Michael. Rich wished he could learn what Michael’s favorite record was--since his room was lined with them--and he wished he could find out why Michael wore that sweatshirt so often. He wished he could have a normal conversation with Michael’s mothers, without feeling like he was invading their space. He wished he could _ have _ Michael for _ real _.

But Rich knew that Jeremy and Chrisine were together, and he knew they were so _ happy. _And he was sure that Michael knew that, too. He never really pried, but he knew that a majority of the time Michael called him over was just after him and Jeremy had hung out.

And it _ hurt _. 

It hurt to know that he was being used as a distraction for Michael’s real feelings.

And the only person to even know about any of Rich’s feelings was Christine. He couldn’t lie, he had spent at least three hours, in total, crying in front of her. And it was _ embarrassing. _He knew that Christine had plenty of contact with Michael, since her boyfriend was literally his best friend. 

She could tell Michael everything. Every word that Rich had spouted to her, every single anecdote about Rich’s affection, every single time he spent crying to Christine, could be revealed in a heartbeat.

But she never told.

Rich felt guilty for never really interacting with Christine before school ended, but it was an incredible feeling to know that, finally, someone was in his corner, cheering for him.

So, for now, Rich could wait. He could keep interacting with Michael weekly, and maybe it could even grow into something new, and different.

And maybe things wouldn’t blow up in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy oh boy.
> 
> a STRONG contender for this chapter's song was "Pork Soda" by Glass Animals but was scrapped last minute when I wrote the texting scene. But you can listen to it anyways cuz its a GOOD SONG.  
i also tried to make the texts look more like speech bubbles so it wasn't as cluttered? I probably failed miserably but that's how it is sometimes. still trying to figure out this fanfiction stuff.
> 
> but yeah this chapter is a healthy mix of "this hasn't happened to me I have no clue what I'm doing" and "this is happening to me right NOW and I HATE it" guess which is which!!!!  
(mega projecting on everything in this fic)
> 
> (i also made a TON of references to another musical, this will all be (hopefully) explained later oops)
> 
> but thank you all for the kudos, I really appreciate it! I know this ship's fanbase is really scarce so I hope i'm living up to any expectations you have. yesterday was my birthday so seeing all the little kudos you guys left made it much better!!  
And remember, do not hesitate to dm me!! I love talking to people who have read my works lol, it's like a big crowning moment for my very small ego, so!!  
my tumblr is captaincremepuff but you're more likely to reach me on my insta, which has the same exact handle!  
Happy expensive headphone-ing :)


	3. Take This Lonely Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And he ran until he hit the forest behind Michael’s house, and took cover behind a tree. His back slid down it until he was sitting, and his ass got wet from the damp leaves underneath him, but he didn’t care.  
Rich was, literally, running away from his problems.
> 
> He was sobbing, propped up against a tree, behind the house of a boy he was hopelessly pining over. And he would rather cry alone in the woods than cry in front of Michael.
> 
> He really was pathetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Song: Take This Lonely Heart by Nothing But Thieves)  
warnings:  
-physical abuse (choking)  
-rich's s.q.u.i.p  
-panic attacks  
-mentioned sexual activity  
Rich has a pretty intense nightmare in the beginning of this chapter. It's in italics, so if you are uncomfortable with the first two warnings, you are able to easily skip it. Stay safe, guys

> “I’ve got a hunger you won’t ever taste
> 
> Craving a desire that won’t go to waste
> 
> Take this from me, take this lonely heart
> 
> And I,
> 
> I’m gonna make it my own."

_ Rich was at home, but something didn’t seem right. Maybe the painting in the kitchen was too far to the right, or maybe the refrigerator was too short. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but he knew he was dreaming. _

_ He was sitting at the table in the kitchen, and for some reason, he knew it wasn’t wise to stand up and go anywhere. So he waited. _

_ Cars passed out the window, but he couldn’t see the faces of anyone that passed by. Well, he didn’t really try that hard. He knew that he would be able to manifest anyone into anything, it was his dream after all. _

_ But all too quickly, the sun outside his dream-kitchen turned blackened. Sparks flew from the snuffed out sun, and everything outside and around his house caught on fire. His father stormed into the kitchen. _

_ “What the fuck did you do?!” He yelled, gesturing to the fiery display just outside. _

_ And suddenly, Rich felt sick. If he was able to throw up in a dream world, then it was probably coming. He didn’t often have dreams about the fire, surprisingly. It was much more often he’d have dreams that were the _ opposite _ of fire, like him drowning with no one coming to his rescue. _

_ He got up, but his legs shook visibly with the effort of it. He was, literally _ , _ quivering in his fucking boots. After all this time, he was still afraid of his father. _

_ “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it--” before he could finish his sentence, his father lurched forward to grab at his neck. His words caught in his throat, and he couldn’t breath. It was like he was drowning. _

_ With an amount of force that wouldn’t have existed in the real world, his father lifted Rich up by his throat, and slammed him against the wall. Rich fell to the ground, completely limp. _

_ He propped himself up by his elbow, and almost fell, but he looked at this father towering over him. The shape of him wavered a bit, like Rich’s mind wasn’t quite sure what it really wanted to manifest. _

_ “Dad, please, I’m sorry, I--” he tried, but was interrupted again. _

_ “I’m not your damn father, so don’t call me that.” His--not--father’s voice shifted, like two different people were talking at once. _

_ And, true to his words, the more Rich looked at him, the more he realized it no longer was his father. _

_ It was his S.Q.U.I.P. _

_ Just as he saw it, the scene around him changed. The walls crumbled, leaving him in an empty void, with fires still blazing in the distance. And just as fast as the room disappeared, it came back again. _

_ He was no longer in his kitchen, but rather back in the hallways of Middleborogh. He tried to get up on his feet, but a force kept him grounded. _

_ “You’re pathetic. Don’t you realize that, Rich?” She spoke, crouching down until she was eye level with him. _ _ His S.Q.U.I.P vaguely resembled Lara Croft, which used to be funny to him, but now he can’t look at that character without feeling physically ill. _

_ “I know,” Rich choked out, not feeling the energy to argue with her. His body felt like it was being crushed like a soda can. _

_ “I was trying to help you,” She glitched out mid-sentence, which with any other evil computer would have been a good sign, but Rich knew that she only glitched when she was unbelievably angry. “Admit it. You need me back.” _

_ Rich screamed when he felt a strong electrical current run through his body, pulsating, but never stopping. He knew he was being punished. For having a breakdown at the party. For practically telling Jeremy what to use to shut down the S.Q.U.I.P. For setting the fire. _

_ For trying to kill himself, and the S.Q.U.I.P. _

_ The electricity died down, and he gasped for air, clawing at the ground to gain any type of traction-- _anything.

_ “Rich,” she said, grabbing at his bruising throat to lift him up. His body still felt constricted, but he scratched at her hands, desperate to breathe. She slammed him up against the lockers behind him, and any air left in his lungs was forced out. He couldn’t breathe. His vision started going white and his eyes rolled up in his head. _

“Rich!” he heard a voice yell, and he jolted awake.

Air filled his lungs and he could breathe again. He could still feel the aching around his trachea like he had been choked out.

Michael was hovering over him with a confused, yet concerned, look on his face. He looked like he didn’t really know what to say. But even so, Rich let out a sigh of relief. He was still at Michael’s house. There wasn’t any light coming through the small window higher up on the wall, which meant it was still night.

“You…” Michael started, tenderly laying a hand on Rich’s cheek to wipe away a stray tear. “You screamed, in your sleep, I guess, and…” He pursed his lip and swallowed visibly. “I don’t know, but you scared the shit out of me. You had your hands around your throat, and I didn’t know what to do,” Michael didn’t really look or sound like he was going to cry, but he sounded… Scared. Panicked.

Rich tried propping himself up on his elbows, and was relieved when he did so with no trouble. 

Michael's other hand--the one not touching Rich's face--crept down so he could hold Rich's hand. "Are you--"

Rich slapped his hand away, "I'm fine," he snapped, even if it was clear he was lying.

He could feel tears prickling the corners of his eyes, and he tried to hold himself back. He did _ not _want to cry in front of Michael.

Rich sat up abruptly and swung his legs around so they were dangling off the bed, and he scooted until his feet hit the floor. “I gotta…” He started, his voice trembling. He rubbed at the persistent tears that threatened to spill over. “I gotta go.”

“Hey, hey, Rich,” Michael started, and he could feel a hand start to grab at him. “Rich, please, don’t go,”

He had already pulled his pants over his waist and his shirt over his head. He didn’t know where his socks or underwear--or shoes for that matter--were, but he rushed out with his phone. 

The stairs creaked as he ran up them, and he could hear Michael calling after him. He hoped he wouldn’t follow.

Michael’s saint bernard--which he later learned was named Banjo--was lying just outside the basement door, and greeted him with a small ‘boof’. He ignored him, no matter how much he wanted to just lie down on the floor with him and cry. Rich went out the back door in hopes that Michael wouldn’t come up after him, and his feet hit the grass that was wet from that evening’s rainfall.

Rich could hear someone call his name, so he started to run. 

And he ran until he hit the forest behind Michael’s house, and took cover behind a tree. His back slid down it until he was sitting, and his ass got wet from the damp leaves underneath him, but he didn’t care.

Rich was, literally, running away from his problems. 

He was sobbing, propped up against a tree, behind the house of a boy he was hopelessly pining over. And he would rather cry alone in the woods than cry in front of Michael.

He really was pathetic.

Rich pulled his phone out from where he had put it in his pocket, and he tried a few times to type in his password correctly. His eyes were fogged over because of his insistent tears, but he could vaguely see the contact names as he scrolled through.

He clicked on one, and prayed that they picked up. His phone rang a total of three times until he heard a tired voice greet him.

“Hey, Christine,” He breathed, hoping his raspy, choked-out voice was understandable. “I need your help. Please”

* * *

Rich woke up to the sound of a television, quietly playing a theme song to a show he didn’t recognize. His whole body ached, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of something he did last night, or the fact that he was currently laying on the floor. 

There was a small blanket draped over his body despite it being summer. He took one look around and realized he wasn’t at Michael’s anymore.

He could see the back of Christine’s head a few feet in front of him. She was sitting in a bean bag chair that was positioned in front of a small television. She looked like she was holding a bowl of cereal, but from this angle Rich couldn't tell for sure.

“Hey,” Rich said to try and get her attention, but his voice was soft. His throat ached horribly, and it was probably bruised.

Christine turned her body around in her beanbag to face him, and she swallowed a mouthful of cereal. “Oh. You’re awake.” she said, setting her bowl down to get up and check on him.

Rich weakly protested as she lifted his head by the jaw to check his neck, and even went as far as to get him to open his mouth so she could check the back of his throat.

When she decided he didn’t need any further help, she sat back and crossed her legs. “Michael called after I went and got you.” She started, and Rich really didn’t want to hear about Michael right now, but he didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. She rubbed at her eyes and Rich noticed the obvious bags forming beneath them. “He was really worried. Said you had a breakdown, or something.”

Rich didn’t recall much after he called Christine, but the experience he had in his dream was fresh in his mind. It clearly had an effect on his physical self, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Was his S.Q.U.I.P still active?

The possibility of that made Rich sick to his stomach. He knew it was irrational to think that way, but his mind always seem to jump to the worst conclusions.

There was a slight chance that his S.Q.U.I.P was merely presenting herself in his dreams, as a way to fight back. If she couldn’t control him during his time awake, then his time asleep was the next best thing.

Or, the best case scenario, she wasn’t still active, and Rich just had a really, _ really _bad dream that somehow made his physical body react.

Christine seemed worried at Rich’s silence, and grabbed his hand to help ground him. He really appreciated the gesture; it was almost embarrassing how well she knew how to make him more comfortable in situations like these.

“I’m… fine,” Rich said, his voice still hoarse. He squeezed Christine’s hand once, and gave a weak smile before letting go.

Christine didn’t seem to believe this, but she didn’t pry any further. “Do you want anything to eat?” She gets up to grab her bowl, but stops to wait for Rich to answer. “It’s like, ten in the morning, but it’s never too late for breakfast.”

She seemed genuinely happy to help, which Rich appreciated. He knew he could be a needy prick sometimes, but he enjoyed Christine’s company and she enjoyed his. Rich barely talked to Jeremy, though.

It wasn’t because of jealousy. At least, that’s what he told himself. He just felt like he couldn’t look Jeremy in the eyes without thinking of him and Michael’s arrangement. No one was really supposed to know about the exact details of their relationship; he had felt awful just telling Christine, there was no way he could even _ talk _ to Jeremy without completely breaking down.

“I could probably get something for myself.” Rich said, standing up. He stretched briefly, his legs slightly weak from sitting for so long. He noticed his feet were warm, and he looked down to see they were adorned with fuzzy pink socks. Rich knew for a fact he didn’t come here with any socks on. He smiled to himself, but didn’t comment on it.

(He had also noticed the brightly colored pajama pants, to replace his jeans that were wet from sitting in the middle of the forest. This was embarrassing considering he wasn’t wearing any underwear last night, and he certainly was now.)

Rich followed Christine out of her room, walking slightly wobbly to the kitchen, despite knowing the layout of her house, he felt strange going ahead of her.

One of Chrstine’s dads was sitting at the table with a mug that read in bold letters, “_ YES, YOUR GAYDAR IS WORKING.” _Rich knew that Christine had given it to him as a joke for his birthday, but it seemed to be the only mug he drank from.

Without looking up from his phone, Christine’s dad spoke, “Morning, honey. Your father brought the rest of the coffee to work. Sorry,” he seemed to sense Rich’s presence, and looked up. “Oh! I didn’t realize you were here, Rich.”

“Hi, Mr. Canigula.” Rich said, pouring himself a bowl of cereal.

He knew both of Chirstine’s dad’s names: Nicholas--the one sitting at the table--and Quinn--one that Rich occasionally saw, but never during the daytime, since he was the one who worked somewhere that wasn’t their house.

He still called them both ‘Mr. Canigula’, despite constant reassurance that their first names were just fine.

“Long night?” Nicholas said, setting his phone face-down.

Rich sat down across from him at the table, and instinctively rubbed at his eyes. He silently hoped the bruising on his neck wasn’t as visible as it felt. “Tell me about it,” He mumbled, not wanting to elaborate further.

“He doesn’t want to talk about his feelings to his boyfriend,” Christine says, trying to prepare herself a pot of coffee. She was either teasing him or trying to explain his and Michael’s relationship in a way that doesn’t reveal her friends’ sexual activities to her father. Either option sucked in its own way.

Rich felt his face heat up. “He’s not...” he started to argue, the words catching in his throat. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Which was very much true, even if Christine insisted they were. Rich knew that being actual boyfriends required them to share the same feelings for each other, but he knew they didn’t. They were more like… what’s the phrase? Friends with benefits?

He couldn’t see her face, but Rich swore Christine rolled her eyes. He could see her father roll his eyes, though. Sometimes it was a big surprise to Rich that they weren’t biologically related.

“You do know I have a husband, right? This house is probably the safest place you can come out,” Nicholas said, taking a sip of his coffee. Rich knew he was just joking around, but it was probably true.

But as if the world was trying to fuck Rich over, he heard a voice say, “Who’s coming out? Oh. Good morning, Rich.” and he could recognize that voice from a fucking _ mile _away.

Rich turned around in his seat and felt the dread build up in his chest. Jeremy _ fucking _Heere. Standing in the doorway, his hair damp as if he just got out of a shower. He was fully dressed, thank god, but this fact didn’t lessen Rich’s clear anxiety about the situation. Rich turned to Christine, hoping his panic was only apparent to her. She just shrugged in response.

“Hey, Jeremy.” he mumbled, before eating a spoonful of cereal in hopes to end the conversation. 

As if he were taunting Rich, Jeremy sat down in a chair next to him at the table. Rich knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose. He was just _ that _ goddamn annoying sometimes. “So, how have things been?” Jeremy asks, unknowingly making the situation so, _ so _much worse.

* * *

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Rich groans, holding his head in his hands. 

“I honestly don’t know what you expected me to do. Jeremy was over, and he was worried about you. He wanted to help.” Christine replied, taking a sip from her travel mug. “And I definitely wasn’t going to get you dressed. So. Jeremy did it for me.”

They were in her car, heading to Rich’s house to drop him off. And he clearly didn’t remember anything from last night. At least, not as much as he thought he did.

“He’s not supposed to--” Rich cut himself off with a long, embarrassed groan, running his fingers through his hair wildly.

Rich wasn’t mad with Christine. She had woken up in the dead of night, drove over all the way to Michael’s house, just to pick up Rich--who was in the middle of a full-on mental breakdown-- all without even breaking a sweat. Christine was a real-life superhero.

“I know he’s not supposed to know about you and Michael. And he doesn’t,” Christine says, not looking at Rich in favor of keeping her eyes on the road. She glanced over, though, and saw the skeptical look in his eyes. “He doesn’t! I swear. I didn’t tell him anything.”

Rich believed that. He knew that Christine had swore to keep it a secret, and he trusted Christine.

“Jeremy was actually the one who woke up when you called.” Christine supplied unhelpfully. “I don’t know, he’s a lighter sleeper than I am. He saw your contact and he answered the phone.”

Rich nearly slammed his head against the dashboard. “You have _ gotta _ be shitting me. I was crying when I called you! I cried to _ Jeremy _!” he wailed, failing to keep his emotions in check. He was more distressed than angry. There was probably no way he’d be able to look at Jeremy the same way again.

Christine rubbed at an eye, clearly still tired. “To be fair, you were still crying when you got to my house.” Rich just groaned in response to this. “Jere met us at the door and he hugged you and you just, like, clung onto him for five full minutes. He thought he was gonna have to carry you inside.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No, he did not.”

Rich sighed in relief, his nerves about the situation starting to die down. Even if the whole thing was probably the most embarrassing thing he’s done in his entire life, he was still relieved to have had people there to help him through it. He was glad to have Christine. (And, begrudgingly, Jeremy)

And after that, they were both silent. There was nothing else to say, really. And no words were exchanged when they finally reached Rich’s house and he got out. He waved as Christine drove away, and that was that.

* * *

It had only been a few hours after Christine drove him home, and it’s been even longer since Rich last talked to Michael. 

Their agreement ensured that they’d meet with one another at least once a week, and it was almost always Michael that initiated their contact with each other. If it was a particularly stressful week, they’d meet for their once-a-week and then periodically text each other for the rest of the week (And Rich could guarantee that his phone’s camera was probably scared for the rest of it’s little phone-life.)

So why did Rich feel so nervous to actually send Michael a text?

He didn’t even know what he would say. Like, ‘_ Hey, I had a mental breakdown at your house in the middle of the night, but it isn’t your fault and I still want to have sex with you _’ didn’t exactly sound practical.

Before Rich could even pick up his phone, it pinged. His heart dropped in his chest and for a fleeting moment he debated not even picking it up. _ It’s probably not even him, _he thinks to himself, as his phone pings a few more times.

Rich takes a breath to steel himself, preparing for the worst.

_ headphones nerd: hey i know you probably _

_ don’t wanna talk right now _

_ headphones nerd: but i want u to know that _

_ im not like, mad or anything _

_ headphones nerd: but im also right outside ur _

_ house rn so dont freak out _

Rich practically jumped up from his bed, not even bothering to respond. He scrambled to the nearest window and true to his words, Michael’s car was parked out front. “Oh my _ god. _” Rich groaned to himself, grabbing his phone from off his bed.

** _me: ?????_ **

** _me: okay i get wanting to see if im_ **

** ** ** _ alright but did u have to come_ **

** ** ** _to my house??_ **

_ headphones nerd: so maybe my planning _

_ was a bit off but its the _

_ thought that counts? _

_ headphones nerd: but please come outside _

_ so i can know you are still _

_ able to look me in the eyes _

_ without completely shutting _

_ down???? _

** _me: michael that is literally the most _ **

** _ridiculous thing ive ever heard in my_ **

** _entire life._ **

_ headphones nerd: yeah okay but are you _

_ coming outside or not? _

_ headphones nerd: i care about your emotional _

_ state clearly but i also just _

_ wanna see you _

_ headphones nerd: so please, kindly, get your _

_ ass out here and into my car. _

** _me: ….. ill be out in like five minutes._ **

Rich look around his room in a slight panic, the feeling that he was forgetting something weighing heavy on his heart. He looks down at himself, trying to gauge if the outfit he was wearing was bearable.

He was still wearing the pajama’s Christine had let him borrow (because a) they were comfortable and b) he didn’t have the energy to change into something more practical) and he determined that it didn’t really matter, Michael has literally seen him naked on multiple occasions, so it really shouldn’t matter if he showed up with pajamas still on in the daytime.

Not wanting to overthink the situation any further, he nearly trips in his haste as he ran down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Enzo called from his usual spot on the couch, but doesn’t bother to lift his head up from the book he was reading.

“None of your business,” Rich called back, slipping a pair of shoes on (that probably weren’t his, but he didn’t care) and ran out the front door before he could be berated and questioned. He felt a sense of relief when he saw Michael leaning against the passenger’s side door.

Michael pushed himself up to a standing position, and walked to meet Rich halfway. “Hey,” he says, gently cupping Rich’s face with a hand.

Rich almost leaned in when he saw Michael start to, but he pushed him away by the chest. He looks back at his house, the panic beginning to rise.. “I don’t…” He starts, finally looking back at Michael. “I don’t want my dad to see.”

“Okay,” Michael says reassuringly. “That’s okay.” he breathes out, squeezing Rich’s hand once.

* * *

The drive to Michael’s house was, to say the least, pretty uneventful. He had put on music for the ride, but half the songs that played Rich had no idea who sung them or even what year they came out. 

But sometimes Michael would start quietly singing along to the songs, as if he didn’t even notice he was doing it. And Rich would try and commit the song to memory, so he could look it up later just to try and figure out which ones were Michael’s favorites.

And for most of the trip, Michael would steer one handed, and use the other hand to grab at Rich’s hand, or his thigh, or pretty much anything he could reach from where he was sitting in the driver’s seat. Rich didn’t mind this, either.

So yeah, the car ride was pretty uneventful.

Once they were parked in the driveway, Rich noticed that there was another car there. Which meant that both of Michael’s moms were home.

Michael seemed to notice the nervous look on Rich’s face. “It’s fine. You don’t have to eat dinner with them. I can just order a pizza, or something.”

That didn’t really calm Rich’s nerves, but he appreciated Michael’s concern. _ It’s now or never. _He thought, opening the car door to get out. Michael did the same, and they walked inside together.

Upon walking through the door, Rich could tell that someone was cooking. A familiar face peeked out of the kitchen, and her face lit up.

“Rich! It’s good to see you,” Rachel said, walking out to properly greet him

Rachel was the first of Michael’s moms that Rich formally met. He pretends to know what the other’s name is, but he honestly hasn’t hear it from anyone yet, so he just tries not to address her directly. But he knew Rachel.

If she wasn’t white, Rich would probably guess that Rachel was Michael’s biological mother. Black hair, glasses, with the overall demeanor that, before, was Michael’s trademark quality. Old fashioned, but in a nerd kind of way.

Rachel stops mid-handshake with Rich, her eyes locked beneath his chin, and _ oh _man--

“Michael James Mell!” she looked to her son with a sort of fury in her eyes. She gestures widely to Rich’s neck which was, to his dismay, still bruised with marks that couldn’t be more clearly hand-shaped. “What the hell did you do to this poor kid?” She accused, clearly agitated.

“Mom, it’s not--” Michael tried, rubbing his face, exasperated. She cuts him off by holding a hand in the air, and turned back to Rich with a sympathetic look on her face.

“Rich, you can go downstairs and relax. I’ll talk to him.” Rachel says, dragging Michael into the kitchen.

And Rich didn’t feel like arguing with Rachel when she was like this, so he just walked to the basement door and trotted down, smiling stupidly when he heard the beginning of Rachel’s lecture to Michael.

He’d apologize to him later, of course, but for now he chose to just enjoy the moment. 

It took a few minutes before Rich finally heard Michael lumber down the stairs, plopping down on his couch face-down. Rich was already sitting on the bed on his phone, and he tried not to laugh as the scene unfolded in front of him.

“Good talk?” Rich said, pocketing his phone.

“I hate you,” Came Michael’s muffled voice from the couch, his voice loaded with sarcasm. He lifted his face up until Rich could see him, and he could tell that Michael was making a clear attempt to look tired, as if having a conversation with his mother was physically exhausting.

Rich shrugged, getting up to go and walk over to Michael. He kissed him from over the couch, stopping so he could clamber over the back so he was sitting properly. He rubbed at his neck subconsciously.

“Do you…” Michael started, his voice suddenly soft. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Rich really didn’t. He hadn’t even told Christine about about most of the details about his dream--or he guessed it was more of a _ nightmare _ \--and talking about his _ feelings _with Michael didn’t sound as appealing as slamming him into the couch and making out with him.

He rubbed at his eyes, his body feeling heavy all of a sudden. “Not really, but…” he almost just stopped there. The conversation could have been over, and Michael wouldn’t have pressed any further. “I probably should, shouldn’t I?

“Yeah. You probably should.”

“Yeah...”

Rich didn’t know where to start. Should he describe the whole dream in full, or should he only talk about the part that made him freak the fuck out in real life? Rich certainly wasn’t used to talking about his feelings with anybody--except for maybe Christine--so this was completely uncharted territory.

“I don’t know. I guess my S.Q.U.I.P showed up in my dream, and just…” He started, moving his hands around when he couldn’t think of words. “She just…She was mad at me. For setting the fire.” He suddenly felt the feeling in the back of his throat like he was about to start crying, and he tried to hold himself back. “I felt like she was punishing me. But, worse than normal. She usually didn’t use physical force, it was usually… psychological, or like, electric shocks when I did something stupid, or if I stuttered, or…or...” the words caught in his throat. He felt hot tears begin to stream down his face. “I can’t--”

He felt Michael pull him into an embrace, and Rich completely broke down. He probably couldn’t stop crying even if he tried. Everything that he had been holding in for who knows how long, finally coming out. He buried his face into the crook of Michael’s neck, even if his heavy breathing made it hot and probably a little damp.

Minutes passed, and Michael held him like that the whole time he was crying. Never complaining. He rubbed Rich’s back reassuringly, but never said anything that would make him regret pouring his feelings out to the person he was in love with.

Rich cried until he felt he physically couldn’t anymore. He probably couldn’t produce anymore tears, but his breathing was shaky. And he felt good.

He pulled away and rubbed at his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, hoping to get rid of any residue from his breakdown. Rich probably looked like shit--he was a _ really _ugly crier--but Michael grabbed both of his hands and laced their fingers together, and he felt his heart melt in his chest.

“Michael,” Rich whispers, as if talking too loud would ruin the moment.

“Yes?”

“For one night… can things be normal? Can we be like, normal teenagers and hang out? Without sex?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” Michael says, and it seems honest.

So they did just that.

Michael ordered a shit-ton of Chinese food--at Rich’s request--and Rachel graciously went to pick it up for them while Rich took a few dozen minutes to recover from his crying session. Michael also brought back down bottles of water (mostly for Rich) and they debated on what video game they should binge while they waited for their food to arrive.

“I just think that Banjo-Kazooie has better mechanics. Like, can you _ backflip _in Mario 64?” Michael argued, sitting on the floor next to the consol.

“Yes, of _ course _you can backflip in Mario 64! You should know this better than anyone!” Rich throws his hands up in mock frustration.

Michael seems to realize something and laughs to himself. “Why are we debating about which one-player game we should use?” Rich notices that, yes, the games they picked _ both _only had a one-player option, which kind of didn’t work out considering there were two of them.

Rich puts his face in his hands in embarrassment. He looks up at Michael to see him smiling, and he smiles back innocently. “You just wanna watch a movie or something?’

“Sure. But I get to pick.”

“We’ll see about that.”

They ended up watching some movie from the 80s that Rich has never heard of, but the plot is interesting and it was actually funny.

“I _ cannot _ believe you’ve never watched ‘ _ The Princess Bride’ _. You know I grew up watching this movie, like, everyday, right?” Michael said.

They had situated themselves in kind of a weird position; Rich laying back against the arm of the couch with his takeout box and chopsticks in hand, with Michael laying back against his chest. They had to turn their heads at an awkward angle to actually _ see _ the movie, but neither complained and Rich was _ definitely _okay with this arrangement.

“I guess I liked animated movies more as a kid. You know, like Monsters Inc. or something like that.” Rich responded, shoving a mouthful of noodles into his mouth.

Michael briefly leaned forward to put his now-empty takeout box on the table in front of the couch, but leaned back in so he was settled up against Rich’s front once again.

By the time the credits for the movie rolled by, Michael’s head was resting against Rich’s upper arm, his breathing slow like he was already sleeping. Rich was comfortable where he was, so he didn’t make any attempt to move. He checks, and Michael’s eyes were closed.

Rich slipped Michael’s glasses off his face and threw them backwards, mentally pumping his fist in success when he didn’t hear anything break. He had already took his contacts off after he was done crying--who knew tears made it hard for them to adhere to your eyes?--so he was already ready to fall asleep.

He buried his face in Michael’s hair, trying not to think about it too much. Rich wouldn’t really consider himself a pervert, but he liked the smell of Michael. He took a breath and closed his eyes, “I love you,” He whispered, without even really meaning to.

Well. At least Michael was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another nothing but thieves song! cool!  
i tried not to repeat artists but i couldn't help myself.
> 
> there are probably a ton of mistakes in this but yeah i think i had to revise and rewrite this thing a million times and then I realize the deadline was right on top of me so i just had to stick to one theme and go with it. sorry if this chapter seems rushed because it pretty much was. mental illness really kicked me in the ass all of last week and it probably slipped into my writing a bit.  
also i dont hate jeremy but he reminds me of one of my friends and i like to poke fun at him, so.  
(most of this chapt. was just an excuse to include christine more. she's my favorite character, yall)  
(also im really sorry i keep adding original characters. most of the time its not intentional i just need to name people or else ill repeat the same defining characteristics for a character over and over and it just gets annoying)  
ALSO Michael's dog is named after Banjo from Banjo-Kazooie bc ITS A GOOD GAME YALL
> 
> some other songs that this chapter was almost written after but didn't make the cut:  
-moondust by jaymes young  
-silhouettes by of monsters and men  
-magic by coldplay  
-spirits by the strumbellas  
-bad habit by ben platt
> 
> from what I have planned, the next chapter will probably make up for the disaster of this one. sorry guys. ill try harder moving on.
> 
> dont forget, my dms are always open! plz dont be intimidated by me i love talking to people.  
both my tumblr and instagram are captaincremepuff!!


	4. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t love me.” Michael says, cursing his quick mouth and awful brain.
> 
> “Wh… what are you talking about?” Rich said, his voice quiet and restrained.
> 
> “Last night. You said you loved me.” Michael explains, resisting the urge to raise his voice.
> 
> Rich swallowed, running his fingers through his hair. "I did say that. You weren't supposed to hear it, though."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (song is Monster by Dodie Clark)  
warnings:  
-verbal fights  
-panic attacks  
-too much feelings :(  
Finally, a chapter in Michael's POV! Though i can't say that's a good thing.  
(before anyone is confused, in this fic Michael's mothers names are Rachel and Elizabeth. okay, that is all!)

> "And through my red eyes, you look pale
> 
> All or your scars are looking more like scales
> 
> Two ugly creatures
> 
> Two sinister preachers
> 
> Blind to the past, like a couple of monsters
> 
> Just a couple of monsters."

“I love you,” Rich mumbled.

Michael was just barely awake, and he almost didn’t register that Rich said anything at all. But the words settled in his head, and so did the dread in his heart. Michael even found it hard to keep his breathing under control. He kept his eyes closed in an attempt to not completely fuck up Rich’s little moment, but he couldn’t help but feel a complete sense of guilt.

He didn’t love Rich.

And here Rich was, probably thinking that Michael was fast asleep, admitting his feelings in a way that was undeniable. Michael didn’t know what to feel. All he felt now was just _ tired. _ Which meant that now was not the time to think about emotions.

So he shifted against Rich, snuggling back into the other’s chest.. Rich’s arms were wrapped around him in a sort of hug, slowly lulling him to sleep.

For real this time.

* * *

When Michael woke up, it was morning.

He squirmed a bit, and found that Rich was still holding onto him. Michael’s whole body ached in a way that signified he probably hadn’t moved at all for the whole night. Carefully, he removed himself from the embrace as to not wake up the other.

Michael got up from the couch to stretch, groaning at the feeling of his joints popping from being locked up for such a long time. He looked at the coffee table, hoping his glasses had ended up there.

Rubbing at his eyes, he walked around the couch so he could easily survey his room. Most of it looked blurry, but he could see a black shape contrasting against the light blankets of his bed. Michael waddled over to grab at them, and shoved his glasses on his face. He let out a breath when he saw the clock on his bedside table.

_ Jesus, _he thought to himself, realizing that he had completely overslept. It was nearly half past nine, and he was supposed to meet Jeremy at the mall around nine. Michael guessed that meeting was over.

He walked over to the couch again, and sat down on the opposite side as to not disturb Rich. He grabbed his phone from the coffee table and turned it on.

_ jere bear: hey are we still meeting today? _

_ jere bear: I mean its fine if we’re not. christine’s _

_ babysitting today and im just trying to _

_ get away from that mess. _

Ten minutes later.

_ jere bear: okay im just gonna assume you overslept. _

_ it’s fine i met up w/ jake at the food court, _

_ you’re free to join us if you want. _

Michael rubbed at his face, sighing quietly through his nose. He made the quick decision that it really wasn’t worth it to drive to the mall to meet with Jeremy--and Jake now, apparently--so he occupied himself with the task of getting rid of all the takeout containers from last night.

He piled them in his arms, and realized that some of them were still full, to his delight. He struggled with his doorknob for a section, due to the amount of stuff he was carrying, but he finally opened his door to walk up the stairs.

Michael knew that one of his mother’s didn’t work today--since the restaurants she worked had such an odd schedule--so he wasn’t surprised when he saw her seated in the kitchen.

“Morning, Mikey.” Elizabeth said, scrubbing at a dish at the sink.

“Morning, ma,” Michael parroted, setting the takeout boxes on the counter so he could sort through them properly. He shoved all the empty ones into the trashcan, and put the ones that still had food in them in the refrigerator for later.

He could see his mother watching him out of the corner of his eye, and he turned to face her. “What?” Michael said, closing the fridge.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and gave him a questioning look. “Something’s bothering you. Who do you have over?” she says, putting the dish and sponge into the sink to walk over to her son.

Michael ignored her question with an exasperated sigh. He debated telling her what was on his mind, but having his mother hear about his love life didn’t sound appealing, especially since he just woke up.

He almost turned around to storm off, but the look on his mother’s face made him feel like he was robbing her of something by not telling her.

“Say, hypothetically, someone were to admit that they had feelings for you. But like, in a way that couldn’t be excused as just friendship. And... and you didn't like this person back.” Michael paused, trying to gauge a reaction. “What would you do?”

“Is it who’s here right now?”

“_Mom,” _ Michael warns.

She waves her arms defensively, “Okay, okay! So this hypothetical person spills their guts. Here’s what _ I _would do.” Elizabeth says, suddenly serious. “If I didn’t feel the same way for them, then I’d tell them that first, in a way that they’d understand.” She starts, going back to the sink to finish the dishes. “If you value this person’s feelings, Mikey, I’d tell them as soon as possible. But... in a non-aggressive way. I'm not going to go downstairs to break up a fight. But in my experience, it’ll get worse the longer he thinks he’ll have a chance...”

Michael knew the implication of his mother sneaking in the word ‘he’, but Michael was already out to both of his parents, so he just hoped she was guessing based off that.

“That’s… not bad advice.” he says, letting her words sink in. It sounded like something that would be very hard to do, especially considering how fragile Rich could be, but he did agree that it would only get harder the longer he put it off.

“I know. I’m a fountain of wisdom.” His mother says, her attention mostly on washing a cup.

He turns around to go back to the basement, but he hears his mother start to speak. “And Mikey?”

“Yeah, ma?”

“Don’t break him more than he already is.”

* * *

Michael was sitting at his desk fiddling around with a pen when he heard Rich begin to stir. He turns around, straddling the back of his chair so he was facing the couch. He could just barely see Rich’s head poking over the back of it.

Rich looked like he wanted to go back to bed, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “What time is it?” He asks, blindly looking around the room.

“Your contacts are on the coffee table.” Michael says, his voice nearly emotionless. “And it’s half past ten.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Michael.” Rich says, a hand on his forehead in exasperation.. “I didn’t set an alarm last night, and--”

“It’s fine.” Michael interrupts, his voice sharp. He really had no right to be angry with Rich. He wasn’t even necessarily angry _ at _Rich, it was more he was angry at feelings in general. He didn’t really know how he was going to go about this.

He watched as Rich put on his contacts, mentally cringing at the sight of his fingers being so close to his _ eyes, _which is exactly why Michael has chosen to only wear glasses for pretty much the rest of his life.

Rich said something, but Michael hadn’t even processed what it was. “What?” he said, pulling himself out of his own head so he could hear what the other was talking about.

“I said, is Jeremy coming over today?” Rich repeated, stretching himself out on the couch. Despite the fact it seemed like he was making himself at home, Rich still wouldn’t directly meet with Michael’s eyes, which was a telltale sign he was nervous about something.

“No,” Michael said, trying not to sound bitter about it. “He’s at the mall today with Jake.” He tossed the pen he was messing with onto his desk, and settled so he was resting his head against his arms, which were crossed over the back of his chair.

Michael couldn’t do this. He couldn’t think of a way to tell Rich how he felt without completely breaking the other. He would ask Jeremy for advice, but that’s problematic for a number of reasons.

He could hear Rich talking about something, and it took all his effort not to tell him to just _ shut up. _It was getting hard for Michael to think, and he could feel the familiar sting of a headache starting to rise from the base of his skull.

Michael got up all too quickly, causing the chair beneath him to fall on the ground. This caused Rich to stop talking--_ thank god, _Michael thought unhelpfully--and he stared, his face showing a mix of confusion and panic.

“Um,” Rich said, wiping his mouth nervously. “You alright there, Michael?” And Michael knew that he was only worried for him, but that didn’t stop him from becoming furious with both himself and Rich.

Michael was completely on edge, and he knew that if he didn’t get this over with now, he’d never say anything about it and it’d become a real problem all too quickly. _ It’ll get worse the longer he thinks he has a chance. _ He just needed to say the first thing that came to mind, and get it over with--

“You don’t love me.” Michael says, cursing his quick mouth and awful brain. 

He was staring past Rich’s head at the wall, just so he didn’t have to make any eye contact. He didn’t want to make this harder than it had to be. But that didn’t stop his peripheral vision from catching the shocked expression on Rich’s face.

“Wh… what are you talking about?” Rich said, his voice quiet and restrained.

Okay. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to start this conversation, but Michael had a theory about why things ended up this way. He hoped that if he could explain it in a way that Rich could understand, the other would realize that, _ no, _ he didn’t actually have any romantic feelings for Michael. Well. It was a theory, at least.

“Last night. You said you loved me.” Michael explains, resisting the urge to raise his voice. He finally looked, and saw Rich, who looked like he was ready to run for the door. Michael discreetly moved in the space between the couch and the door.

Rich swallowed, running his fingers through his hair. “I did… I did say that.” he said, his voice beginning to sound like it does when he’s about to cry. “But. You weren’t supposed to hear it, so…” he stops himself, avoiding any and all eye contact with Michael.

“You know what I think?” Michael says, taking a step forward. “I think you don’t actually love me. I think that, for the first time in almost _ two year _ , you have someone that cares for the real you.” He had meant to make it sound a little more sentimental, but it just sounded _ mean. _But Michael didn’t stop there. “You had a computer in your brain telling you what to say, eat, and do. It also told you who to love. So you went all this time doing what it said, even if you didn’t actually love that person.”

Michael could see the tears beginning to form at the corners of Rich’s eyes, even if the other was looking down at his hands in shame. But Michael wasn’t done.

“So, when the damn thing is finally _ gone _, you cling to the first person that will show you sympathy.” Michael could feel his anger rising, despite his attempts to keep it all at bay.

“_Stop_,” Rich sobbed, desperately wiping at the tears streaming endlessly down his face. Michael didn’t listen to him.

“You were so desperate to have a person in your life that you _ fell in love _with the first person who gave you the time of day. You don’t need me, Rich--”

“I said _ stop!” _

“You need _ help _ .” Michael said, his face hot with shame. He felt guilty for being the cause of Rich’s tears. And it was _hard. _He would rather put it off like he does with so many other things, but he knew that would cause more conflict than this would.

Rich got up quickly, stumbling a bit before regaining his balance. “_Fuck _you,” he spit out, his voice wavering in his attempt.

“_Fine,” _ Michael spat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can stay mad at me for as long as you want. Forever, if you really fucking want. But one day, you’ll realize I’m right. You _know _I’m right--”

Michael’s words were cut off when he felt himself being shoved against the wall, Rich recoiling from the force of pushing him. “Shut the _ fuck _ up, you don’t know _ anything _ about me!” he wailed, the tears apparent with the sound of his voice. He tried to take a breath, but it got caught in his throat. “I spent the last _ two fucking years _ of my life trapped in my own _ fucking _ head. I don’t get to enjoy _ anything _ anymore without thinking of her! Do you have any _ idea _ how that feels?!”

Michael didn’t. He was the only one in their entire group that didn’t--even briefly--have a S.Q.U.I.P. Jeremy had explained what his had done to _ him, _but he never even got a chance to hear what Rich’s did. Michael couldn’t imagine spending that much time with something so… abusive. That didn’t exactly change his opinion on the situation, though.

Rich’s form seemed to waver in front of him, the others breathing intensifying. Michael opened his mouth to mention it, but Rich cut him off. “She took everything from me.” he said, his voice suddenly quiet. He glitched--was that the right word?--a few more times before speaking again, “Am I really that selfish to want this _ one _thing?” Rich’s voice raised an octave, and despite his expression, he seemed calm. Calmer than before, at least.

“Rich, I--”

“_Don’t_.” Rich snapped, shoving Michael away from the door. He opened it, and looked back before he started his ascent. “I should have known you’d be just like everyone else_.” _Rich wiped his tears, looking Michael in the eyes one last time before darting up the stairs.

The words weighed heavy on Michael’s heart, and he couldn’t move. He didn’t go after Rich. He didn’t even try. Instead, he shuffled over to his bed, his legs almost too weak to carry him. Collapsing face first into his pillow, he succumbed to his emotional exhaustion, and tried to hold in his tears.

But Michael would never admit that he’d failed at that, too.

* * *

Michael woke up to the sound of someone pounding on his door. He picked up his face from his pillow, groaning quietly.

He didn’t have any idea how long he had been sleeping, but it was still light out, so he assumed it had only been an hour or so. Michael rolled off his bed, running his fingers through his hair. He assumed that he had marks from where his glasses had pressed up against his face when he was sleeping, but he didn’t care.

Walking up to his door, he silently hoped it was Rich. Michael reached for the doorknob, but the door swung open and he jumped back in surprise.

“Oh, Christine, I--”

“What the hell did you do?” Christine snapped, walking into Michael’s room like a woman on a mission. The door slammed behind her, and she flinched like she hadn’t meant to close it that hard. “Rich calls me in a frenzy, and of _ course _ I couldn’t go and help him because I was babysitting. By the time I was able to, I can’t even get in contact with him,” Christine’s pacing back and forth, gesturing with her hands as she talks. “But he kept mentioning you. And I’m _ sure _you had something to do with it..”

Michael did have something to do with it, but telling Christine the entire story sounded like a last-resort type of situation. And, well, he guessed it was.

Christine seemed to sense his obvious discomfort, and walked over to the couch to take a seat. She patted the space next to her, gesturing for Michael to come and sit down, too, albeit a little nervously. “It’s fine, man.” Christine said reassuringly, suddenly calm. “Just start at the beginning.”

Michael didn’t exactly know what _ was _the beginning. He didn’t exactly feel comfortable telling one of his friends about his sex life, even if they had grown closer in the past year. But there was really no lying to Christine; she’d see right past it.

Michael rubbed at the hem of his sweatshirt nervously. “I slept with Rich after Jake’s party, and--”

“I already know about that part, idiot.”

He sucked in a breath and pursed his lips. “Well. That’s embarrassing.” Michael admitted, trying to avoid eye contact. “Is it really that obvious?”

Christine huffed out a breath from next to him, close to laughing. “No, it’s actually not. Rich told me--_ ” _ Michael made a noise in protest, “-- _ BUT. _ I forced it out of him. So don’t blame Rich for me knowing about it.” She paused for a second, and then she smiled. “He talks about you a lot, you know. I’ve had to listen to _ a lot _of stupid stuff.”

Michael didn’t want to mull over this fact for too long. His guilt about this entire situation was nearly crippling, and he wanted nothing more than to just go back to his bed and sleep the entire thing off. “I don’t… I don’t think I love him,” Michael said, not giving the sentiment much thought. He really hadn’t considered him and Rich together before; it was foreign territory, and he really didn’t know how he felt about it yet.

Christine sighed, almost inaudible. “That’s probably why he called me, huh?” Michael nodded at this, deciding that explaining the full reason would probably unleash a beast. “Well, what are you going to do now?”

Michael spoke, without even thinking about it. "I'll wait it out, and one day he'll get over me."

"And if he doesn't?" Christine asks. She has always been such a sympathetic person, and she clearly cared about the well-being of Rich. It’s not like Michael didn’t _ care _, necessarily, but his own feelings were so mixed up that adding another persons’ seemed like a recipe for disaster. It already kind of was a disaster.

Michael purses his lips. "He will. They always do."

“Alright, that’s it.” Christine says, getting up from the couch. “I’m getting Jeremy.”

“Oh god, please don’t,” Michael put his hand in his hands, but made no effort to stop Christine as she walked out of the room. By now, Michael had accepted his fate.

Michael spent some time in the same position: Head in hands, legs curled up against his body, with his chin resting on his knees. That is, until he heard someone walk in the room.

"Hey, Jeremy," Michael said, the words muffled partially by his hands.

"Hi, Michael," Jeremy said with a sigh. Michael could feel the couch cushions shift a bit, due to Jeremy sitting down next to him. “So. Rich, huh?” he mumbled, causing Michael to groan in disbelief.

“I kind of don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to talk about it _ at all _, actually.” Michael said, sitting up so he could wrap himself in his own arms for some kind of comfort. It was bad enough he had Christine at his back probably plotting his murder, but now he had to talk to his best friend--who he was kind of in love with--about one of their fellow former classmates who he also happened to have casual sex with--who he kind of wasn’t in love with.

“Well,” Jeremy slapped a hand on Michael’s back in an attempt to be reassuring, “Christine looks like she has a death wish with your name on it, so I’d suggest getting your story straight.” Jeremy paused, and then snorted a bit. “Okay. Maybe not _ straight, _but you know what I mean.”

Michael really wanted to laugh at the joke, but he couldn’t find the energy inside him. He was completely drained. “You, uh… You probably know about me and Rich’s relationship.”

“Rich and _ I, _” Jeremy supplied completely unhelpfully. “Wait, what?” he questioned, his eyes suddenly wide. “You and Rich were in a relationship?” Jeremy seemed genuinely surprised, which means that either Christine is really good at keeping secrets, or he’s just really dumb. Or maybe it was a combination of both. It’s probably both.

“Oh, shit,” Michael says, his face heating up in humiliation. “I guess you didn’t know. Shit. _ Shit. _” he ran his fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to walk to the nearest cliff and jump out of pure embarrassment. “Yes. Me and Rich were in a relationship, but it wasn’t… romantic.” he admitted, hoping he wouldn’t have to elaborate anymore.

“Oh my god,” Jeremy said, his voice barely a whisper. Michael heard Jeremy giggle, but stopped when he gave him a glare. “I’m sorry, in any other situation this would have been funny. I mean… he’s just… Jeremy made a noise of confusion, searching for the words. “He’s _ Rich. _”

“He’s _ nice,” _Michael snapped, regretting it when he saw Jeremy raise an eyebrow. “I, uh… I mean--”

“It’s fine, I get it.” Jeremy cut him off, raising his hands in defense. “You’re in love with him. That’s like, totally fine. I just don’t see why I’m here to give you a romance talk.”

“I’m not--” Michael shut his mouth, running his fingers through his hair nervously. “I don’t think… I don’t think I’m in love with him. I don’t know!” his grip in his own hair tightened instinctively.

“Dude,” Jeremy says calmly, taking Michael’s hand from his hair to hold it tightly. “Calm down. Deep breaths.” Reacting instantly, Michael’s shoulders relax, and he breaths in for a five count, and breaths out for a six count. “That’s good, man. You remember the rest, right? Go up in the count until you relax?” Michael nods, and does just that.

It’s quiet for a few dozen seconds, the only sounds in the room are both of their breathing. Michael had already calmed himself down, but he already admitted a lot of stuff that day, so why not do something stupid?

“I think I’m in love with you,” Michael sighs out, and he was still unsure on why he decided to say that.

He could feel Jeremy shift next to him, and Michael felt tempted to run away again. “I know.” Jeremy said, squeezing Michael’s hand once. “And that isn’t just a Star Wars reference, by the way.”

“That doesn’t make you uncomfortable?” 

Jeremy gaped at him for a second before responding, “No, why..why would that--?” He questioned faintly. “Michael. I _ like _ hanging out with you. And I know you’d never intentionally do anything to make me uncomfortable. But you aren’t exactly James fucking Bond,” they both giggled a bit at that, but Jeremy continued. “You’re my best friend and I wouldn’t change that for the _ world _. I want you to be there for me for the rest of my life and I want to be there for you for the rest of yours. And you being in love with me isn’t going to change that.”

Michael felt relieved at this statement. He didn’t even feel hurt that Jeremy had pretty much crushed his feelings. In fact, he felt… better. It was almost as if the thing that was worrying him was losing Jeremy again, rather than whether or not his feelings were returned.

“I’m about to do something really stupid.” Jeremy says, and he has a nervous smile on his face.

“Oh, god,” Michael laughs.

“And… and this is just like, an experiment. I don’t want it to change anything between us.” Jeremy squeezes Michael’s hand again, and now _ he _looks like he’s ready to make a run for it. Michael looks away with a small grin, and when he looks back--

Jeremy kisses him.

Now, in Michael’s own fantasies, he always imagined his first kiss with Jeremy to be something straight out of a romance novel. There’d be fireworks dancing behind his eyes, and he’d swoon, and probably sweep Jeremy off of his feet. But now? Michael felt…

Michael felt nothing.

In fact, he was the first to pull away, and he probably had a very weird look on his face. He felt weird. This felt weird.

“Well, I’m still straight.” Jeremy says, his cheeks red in what Michael could only assume was pure chagrin. “Do you--” Jeremy cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Do you feel any different?”

Michael took a second to process his emotions. He thought he didn’t know how he felt before, now he _ definitely _ didn’t. Looking at Jeremy, he still felt the same infatuation he did before, but something was… twisted. In a way he couldn’t understand. He looked at Jeremy in a way you would to a cute dog--even though you already have one. You want it, _ so badly, _but you know it’d be impractical and would probably mess up your schedule, and possibly life. And it would mess up your existing cute dog. It’s aesthetically pleasing, but wouldn’t add anything new to your life.

Did Michael ever actually love Jeremy at all?

Without answering Jeremy or his own question, he shot up from his seat, his hand falling from Jeremy’s. Michael felt his heart drop in his chest. He has a strange feeling of impulse, one that he doesn't often display. It's the kind that makes him want to jump into something without ever thinking about the consequences, he wanted--

_ Rich. _

“I have to go get Rich,” Michael says, starting to panic again. He starts to look frantically around his room for his phone, but Jeremy interrupts him.

“Oh, Michael,” He sighed, “You haven’t heard?”

An undeniable sense of dread settles in Michael’s stomach, and he fears the absolute worst. “What?”

“No one’s heard from Rich in hours. We have no idea where he is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (disclaimer: i dont ship boyf riends. that's all.)  
hope yall like CLIFFHANGERS!  
This whole chapter was the very first thing i had planned for this fic, and that's kinda sad.  
Why is Michael such an asshole in this chapter?! i dont know. why is EVERYONE an asshole in this chapter?! I DUNNO. i guess i was in a Mood.  
but yeah im sorry about this but do remember that this is only chapter four and there are FOUR more chapters (and *cough cough* a possible spinoff if i feel like it *cough cough*). its not ALL gonna be angst i swear.
> 
> a side note: yes, the squips are still "active", but not in the way they are in the musical? rich's can communicate through his dreams and has an effect on his physical form if he experiences very intense emotions (thus him briefly glitching out without realizing it) I was going to make this a side plot, but there's already enough conflict with just the main plot i thought that adding another would make it very long and confusing. Maybe one day!
> 
> remember, i love talking with yall!! gush about expensive headphones!! scream at me for breaking your heart!! tell me about how my formatting sucks!! i love it ALL!!  
my tumblr AND instagram are captaincremepuff!! :)


	5. Things We Lost In The Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rich thought for a moment before responding, “Let me guess. Roses mean love, right?”
> 
> Jake shook his head, "You'd think that. But these are yellow, dude. The colors mean different things." he took the flower in his hand and tucked it in Rich's hair. "Yellow symbolizes platonic love."
> 
> "Like... friendship."
> 
> "Yeah, I guess like friendship."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (song: things we lost in the fire by bastille)  
warnings:  
-implied suicide attempt (it's not explicitly said, though)  
-survivor's guilt (or just guilt in general)  
-just general sadness  
Some much needed advice in the form of horticulture and fire. (feat. Jake)

> "We sat and made a list of all the things that we have
> 
> Down the backs of table tops, ticket stubs, and your diaries.
> 
> I read them all one day,
> 
> when loneliness came and you were away.
> 
> Oh they told me nothing new, 
> 
> but I loved to read the words you used."

When Rich stormed up the stairs and into the kitchen of Michael’s house, he caught a glimpse of Elizabeth looking at him from across the room. He knew that his cheeks were still stained with tears, and his sniffling was akin to how one would sound if they had a cold.

Rich did not, in fact, have a cold, even if he was burning up.

Wordlessly, Elizabeth crossed the room to put a hand onto Rich’s back, and guided him out of the kitchen and out the door of the house. He suddenly felt guilty that he never really made an effort to get to know either of Michael’s mothers, but the situation him and Rich were in wasn’t really conversation-worthy.

Rich was led to the passenger side door of Elizabeth’s car. He really didn’t want to endure an entire car ride with the mother of the person he  _ really  _ shouldn’t be thinking about right now, but it was a much better option than sitting and waiting for someone to come and pick him up. Rich opened the door and sat down, and Elizabeth walked to the other side of the car to do the same.

She seemed to have something she wanted to say. Elizabeth was staring at the steering wheel with the keys in the ignition, but didn’t start the car.

“Michael does care about you,” She says, which surprised Rich. “He kind of has a bad way of showing it, though. He tries to prevent you from getting hurt  _ by  _ hurting you first.” She waves her hands, as if she got carried away and stopped herself.

Elizabeth starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, and after that one interaction, the rest of the car ride is completely silent. The only sounds that fill the car is the soft music playing from the stereo, and Rich’s breath hitching as he tries to stop himself from crying.

As they drove closer to the town and more houses started getting closer together, Rich realized that he had nothing he’d be able to tell his father. It’s not like he could tell him what  _ actually  _ happened, and why he was  _ actually  _ crying (as if he was even able to cry in front of his father at all) So the closer they got to Rich’s house, the more panic seemed to rise in his chest.

“Here’s fine,” Rich said when he realized they were only a few blocks from his house.

Elizabeth pulled the car to the side of the road, “Are you sure? I thought you lived a little further into town.” She says, stopping the car anyways.

Rich unlocked the passenger side door by himself and started to get out, “No, this is fine. I’m… I’d rather walk.” He lied, waving goodbye and slamming the door so he didn’t have to explain himself any further. Rich waited in the same spot until he couldn’t see Elizabeth’s car anymore, and then he pulled out his phone and started walking.

He scrolled through his contacts, trying to hold back the tears welling up. The more he thought about it, the harder it was to keep them at bay. By the time he got to Christine’s contact, tears were already spilling off his face.

“Christine? Wh...where are you right now?” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Rich, what…” Christine starts, and she pauses. Rich can hear some shuffling before she starts speaking again. “I’m babysitting right now. I can’t… what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Rich took a few breaths before responding, looking around like he didn’t know where to go. “I’m not--” He starts, his breath hitching when he tried to take a breath. “I don’t know where to go.I..I fucked up, Christine.” he mumbled. “Oh god, he probably fucking hates me now. Christine, I don’t… I didn’t mean to yell at him but he… he kind of deserved it?” Rich rambled, no longer able to control his tears.

“Okay, Rich, just--” Christine said, leaning away from the phone to yell something to the kids she was babysitting. “Stay where you are. I’ll send someone to get you.”

With that, Rich began to panic. He didn’t want to be seen by anyone at the moment, and the thought of Christine sending someone to pick Rich up and take him… well, take him anywhere, really, seemed like a nightmare. But he had a strong feeling that the first person Christine would try and contact would be Jeremy, and he did  _ not  _ want to cry in front of Jeremy ( _ again).  _ So he made an irrational decision, and he hung up the phone.

* * *

Rich’s way of relieving stress was a little bit... unconventional.

(Well, his old way. Since he had been meeting with Michael, he had no reason to keep doing what he did before. But Michael was unavailable. So he was back to his old ways.)

The spot was kind of secret; an old abandoned camping site that no one had really used in years. Occasionally someone would come up and mow the grass so it wasn’t a bitch to deal with, but other than that, no one knew it was even there.

But Rich did.

With the spare cash he had in the pocket of his hoodie, he bought a gallon of water and a newspaper. He always had a lighter on him, though. You know. Just in case. (And with the situation at hand, he guessed he wasn’t crazy for telling himself that whenever he pocketed his lighter while going anywhere) The camping site had plenty of dead sticks, so fuel was not a problem.

Wandering up into the forest, Rich listened to the gentle sound of leaves crunching underneath his feet. He loved that no matter what season it was, the forest always had a thick layer of leaves on the ground. It was a little dark, due to the canopy of brightly colored leaves above him. He never really liked taking the traditional path. Rich was much more likely to encounter people if he walked through the still-operating campgrounds, so he took the back way.

After plodding up a small incline, Rich reached a small clearing. It looked similar to the other campsites, but was stripped of really anything that made it livable. The only things that remained were the charred circle of an old fire pit, and a rusted camping grill.

Rich set down his supplies next to the pit, and started walking around to gather sticks. It had actually been quite a while since he had last been here, so he had no trouble finding an adequate amount of fuel.

Starting the fire was easy, with the amount of times he had done this already. Rich was proud to say that he was pretty much taught himself to start a fire from scratch (without the help of any gasoline, of course). But after an hour or so of tending to the fire and occasionally snapping a quick picture on his phone, he realized he didn’t have any service, which meant that any text coming through wouldn’t even reach him, and he wouldn’t admit he was a little relieved.

But then he thought of Michael again, and pretty much all the stress from the day came crashing back down on his shoulders. Had he done the right thing?

Running away from his problems--again--didn’t seem like the most rational decision, but Rich had never really been the best in that department. He was more worried about his conversation (or argument, rather) with Michael. In the heat of the moment, Rich had yelled, and he hadn’t meant to. He lost his cool and snapped at the one person he really couldn’t afford to get mad at. He cared deeply for Michael (probably more than he would admit) but this also raises the question…

Was Michael right?

Rich’s first instinct would be that no, of course he wasn’t. Rich knew his own feelings better than anyone else, he should know  _ exactly  _ how he feels about others… Shouldn’t he?

Doubt inadvertently filled his mind, clouding his more reasoned thoughts. Say Michael was right in what he said. What would that mean for Rich? He had been meeting with Michael for the better part of a month (and a half, if he could remember correctly) and with college coming up, would they really have the time to see each other as often as they used to?

A future without Michael in it made Rich feel… a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t like he  _ couldn’t  _ imagine it, but Rich had always formed his plans around one day being with Michael. But now that future seemed obsolete. Rich rubbed at the tears that inevitably began to stream down his already-stained cheeks.

Before Rich could ponder this further, he heard the sound of leaves crunching from behind him, and he half expected to look and see a concerned park ranger reprimanding him for burning a fire on a vacant campground, but--

“I don’t think Smokey the bear would be very happy,” A familiar voice said, and it made Rich feel sick. “I mean, burning a fire with no ring of rocks around the pit? That’s a one-way ticket to a forest fire, Rich.”

He looked behind him, and his suspicions were confirmed. His heart caught in his throat, and he could barely choke out, “Jake,” Rich rubbed at his eyes, trying to wipe any stray tears away. He could feel that his eyes were already red and he probably looked like a hot fuckin’ mess, but he still felt compelled to speak. “How did… how did you know I was going to be here?”

Jake sat down next to him in front of the fire, making Rich feel like running away again and finding some other way to release his stress.

“I don’t know. I heard you ran off, I saw smoke coming from a vacant camping site, and I got hopeful.” Jake shrugged, letting out a sigh. “It was either that or I was walking straight into a forest fire.”

Rich almost laughed at that, but the thought of his ex-best friend walking straight into a blazing forest just because he was looking for  _ Rich  _ made him feel sick to his stomach. He still felt a few stray tears streaming down his cheeks that were leftover from his breakdown, but he didn’t bother to wipe any of them away.

“So, pull me up to speed. You run away without telling anyone where you’re going because…?” Jake stops, expecting Rich to fill in the blanks.

Rich pokes at the fire as he begins to pull his story together. How much should he tell Jake? They used to be best friends who told each other every little problem, but that was also when Rich still had his S.Q.U.I.P. Back then, Rich didn’t have any  _ real  _ problems. They were all things that were created inside his own head and implemented in real life by a supercomputer. So everything he ever told Jake was a lie. Which made him think...

Was he really ever actually friends with Jake at all?

“Where the fuck should I start,” Rich mutters, not really expecting an answer. “At the end of freshman year I took a pill that changed my life. You know that part. I set your house on fire in a desperate attempt to get rid of it. You  _ know  _ that part,” he throws his arms in the air dramatically in frustration, but he wasn’t angry with Jake. He was more angry with himself.

Rich runs his fingers through his hair as his eyes start stinging, and he could feel the tears beginning to well up again. There’s a slight pressure on his shoulder, and he turns to see Jake silently pressing a water bottle up to him.

“Thanks,” Rich says, his voice barely audible. He opens it and holds it up to his mouth, only expecting to take a sip. Not really realizing how thirsty he really was, Rich drinks until half the bottle is empty. You know. Like an idiot.

Rich spends a few seconds catching his breath before capping the bottle and setting it down next to him. Jake opens his mouth to speak, but he looks away, purposefully avoiding eye contact.”Is it Michael?” Jake asks, surprising Rich.

Rich gapes at him for a few seconds before responding, “How did… How did you know?” Unless someone told Jake about him and Michael’s relationship (or lack thereof) then there was really no logical way that Jake could have guessed something  _ that  _ specific.

“I don’t know. He always seemed like…”

“My type?”

“Something like that.” Jake said, adjusting his leg so they were crossed rather than close to the fire. “So, you’re like… Bi, or whatever?” he asks, clearly unsure of where to take this conversation.

Rich laughed, “I thought I had told everyone. It was kind of, uh… A big thing, I guess. Like once the S.Q.U.I.P was gone, I was free to be with whoever. I didn’t really realize I liked men before.”

Rich could see the corners of Jake’s mouth turn up, and he raised an eyebrow. “Really?” Jake said, huffing out a small laugh. “I figured locker rooms were like, an existential crisis for you. At first I thought you just didn’t like changing around people, cuz’ that’s… common, I guess?” Jake started, finally looking Rich in the eyes about halfway through. (Rich didn’t look away, though) “But purposefully avoiding even  _ looking  _ at Dustin made me a little suspicious. And your face would get red, too, like it would when you \--”

“O _ kay _ , that’s good, I get it,” Rich said, not wanting to hear the end of that conversation. “So. What do I do about it?” he said, hoping Jake would be able to provide a little advice.

“Just tell him how you feel, dude.”

Rich groaned, putting his face in his hands. “Already did.”

“Ah.” Jake said, rubbing Rich’s back sympathetically. “How’d that go?”

Rich looked at him incredulously, raising an eyebrow. “How do you  _ think  _ it went? Just take a guess.” as much as Rich hated his ex-best friend poking around in his love life, it did feel a little good to get back into a normal conversation with Jake. Well, it wasn’t really  _ normal _ , but it was still something that they had talked about frequently while they used to hang out. But back then, it had been exclusively about girls. Now it’s… well, it’s about Michael, which is kind of a bit fucking deal.

Jake pursed his lips and looked away, seeming a little embarrassed. “Oh, I’m guessing…” Jake cleared his throat awkwardly. “Not good, huh?” he sighed, slapping Rich on the back in support. “Was he, like… angry? I mean, I’ve never seen Michael while he’s angry.”

Rich didn’t really know what Michael’s feelings over the situation were. He seemed more confused, not angry. “I don’t know.” he admitted, not wanting to tell Jake something he didn’t know to be true. “He didn’t seem to reciprocate, though. That’s for sure.”

When he looked over, and he saw Jake had his arms wide open. Rich smiled, and he felt a small whimper in the back of his throat. He settled himself at Jake’s side, allowing the other to wrap his arms around him. With this, Rich allowed his nerves to calm. Even though he could still feel tears streaming down his face, his breathing slowed and he felt more at ease now than he has the entire day.

Rich didn’t know exactly how much time they spent in that position, but it was enough time to make his back start to hurt. He didn’t have the energy to move, and frankly, he didn’t want to. Rich had so much he wanted to say to Jake, but he didn’t know how to put any of his thoughts into words. Firstly…

“Thank you,” Rich said, hoping Jake would know what he was referring to.

Jake shifted a bit in his spot, and Rich was guessing he was starting to get uncomfortable with the strange position as well. “For what?” he asked, and Rich dreaded the answer.

He hesitated with answering. Rich even considered lying, but he didn’t want to hide from his problems anymore. And this was a better place to start than any. “For saving me,” Rich sighed, wiping at his eyes. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“Rich…”

“Don’t argue. You know I would have died. My injuries were already life-threatening. I would have been dead by the time the ambulance got there.” Rich’s voice was still wavering from when he was crying, but that just intensified with the thought that  _ this  _ conversation brought. “Jake…” Rich breathed out, not waiting for an answer. “Why didn’t you leave me?”

“Rich--”

“No, don’t… Just don’t. I don’t need a lecture right now.” Rich interrupted just as Jake sat up in order to look him in the eyes. “Please, just answer the question.” Rich finished, finally meeting Jake’s gaze. He looked worried, and he had every right to be. But that didn’t stop Rich from wanting a clear answer.

“You’re my best friend,” Jake said, seeming out of breath all of a sudden.

“Are, or were?” Rich asked, looking back to the fire (which probably needed more sticks, but Rich didn’t find the effort in him to actually get up and do it) He had known that at a time, he and Jake were friends. At least, that’s what he told himself. But the fact that Jake had pretty much avoided him the entire year made him suspicious. Rich had barely interacted with Jake the entire year, which he thought was impossible. But since they didn’t have any classes together, Rich could easily slip away if he saw Jake anywhere in the same vicinity as him. It seemed a bit childish, but he was only avoiding having to have the exact conversation that they were having now.

Well, you can’t delay the inevitable.

“Dude,” Jake said, in disbelief. He hesitated for a second, but continued. “I still consider you my best friend, even if… even if we don’t talk as often as we used to. I mean, I  _ want  _ to be best friends with you.” Jake shifts a bit, as if he were uncomfortable. “Nothing was the same after the play. But I still miss you.”

Rich kind of found that hard to believe, even if Jake seemed sincere. He hadn’t exactly interacted with that many people his senior year, but a lot of that was his own fault. Rich swallowed nervously, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. He wiped at his eyes again and sniffled, “You know why I did it, though?” Rich hadn’t really talked to anyone about the fire. He had went to see a psychologist a few times while he was in recovery, but other than that, no one really knew a lot about what happened with Rich  _ or  _ the fire.

Jake nodded, but didn’t say anything. Rich didn’t even think he’d be able to handle hearing it out loud. He couldn’t even think about it without feeling like there was a huge hole in his chest. It was times like these he still wished he had a super computer controlling his emotions.

Rich feels an arm around his shoulder, and he settles into the half-embrace. “I don’t regret anything that happened that night, Rich. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“Even though your house burned down and you broke both of your legs?” Rich said. It was meant to be a rhetorical question, and it probably made him seem bitter. He wasn’t, though. He was grateful for Jake in general, but Rich still felt immense guilt for what he did. It was hard  _ not  _ to feel guilty for something as major as burning someones  _ fucking house down. _

Jake was silent for a few seconds, but he shook Rich lightly for reassurance. “You got your life back.  _ That’s  _ what makes it worth it to me. Even if I had to watch from a distance.” Jake pulled his arm away too quickly, and stood up, startling Rich. He had, briefly, thought that he fucked up, but when he looked at Jake, he was holding out a hand to help Rich up off the ground. “C’mon.” Rich took it and stood up. “I’ve got something to show you.” Jake said.

* * *

The walk back wasn’t as long as Rich’s trek into the woods, but he was exhausted, so it felt like forever. Rich was still carrying the half-empty gallon bottle--that he used to put out his fire--so he swung it around lightly as he walked. Jake walked by his side, and there was a slight distance between them, but sometimes they’d be drawn together and lightly bump shoulders. And everything was alright.

That was, until Rich recognized the route they were walking. He had walked this way to Jake’s house almost everyday after school, and even though it had been a long time, it was impossible for him to forget. He prepared for the worst as the remorse settled deep in his chest.

But, to Rich’s surprise, the house was completely gone. Not even the burnt framework remained; the land was completely stripped clean.

And replaced with a large, vibrant garden.

Rich stopped dead in his tracks just to stare. He probably looked like an _idiot,_ and he felt like one, too. He was so busy actively avoiding even going _near _the wreckage that was Jake’s house that he didn’t even realize this was here the whole time.

“When everyone finally realized that my parents were gone, and that I was living with my grandparents, the property was repossessed. They took care of the framework and the debris and they just decided to make it into a community garden.” Jake said, gently placing a hand on Rich’s back to guide him into the fenced-in area.

There were about eight wooden planters on either side, and all of them were filled with an array of different types of vegetation. Each different type of plant was organized in their own box, with a matching one on the opposite side. Jake, however, was leading Rich to one in the far right corner, tucked away from the rest.

“I came here everyday for our last semester when it started to get warmer,” Jake explained, squeezing himself between the planter and the back fence. “Most of these are mine. But I, uh…” Jake paused to run his fingers through his hair. “I kind of did it for you.” he admitted, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

Rich gesture to the group of flowers closest to him. “What’s that?” It was pink, but the two inner petals were yellow with black stripes. It looked most like a lily, but Rich wasn’t very well versed with flowers.

“Alstroemeria.” Jake replied almost immediately, shuffling over to get a better look. “It’s actually native to South America. It represents, um…” With their closer proximity, Rich could see Jake’s face flush. “Devotion and friendship.”

“What about those?” Rich pointed to another group of flowers.

“Dude, how do you not know what roses are? It’s a yellow rose bush. But don’t touch, they’ve got thorns.” Jake said, picking a flower from the vines anyway.

Rich thought for a moment before responding, “Let me guess. Roses mean love, right?”

Jake shook his head, chuckling a bit. “You’d think that. But these are yellow, dude. The colors mean different things.” he took the flower in his hand and tucked it into Rich’s hair. (And Rich had to resist the urge to die out of embarrassment on the spot). “Yellow symbolizes platonic love.”

“Like… friendship.”

“Yeah, I guess like friendship.”

Rich looked around at the rest of the flowers. There were quite a few different kinds, and Rich didn’t know the first thing about any of them, but he still appreciated horticulture, even if he had no idea about any of it. “So this is like… a friend garden.” Rich says, mostly to himself.

Jake rolls his eyes, “I haven’t even shown you the best one yet,” he pulls Rich by the arm in order to get him closer to the planter, and leans down to a smaller, vibrant red flower. It had multiple flowers on one stalk, with little filaments coming out between the petals. “I planted this one for you,” Jake started, and Rich instinctively reached to touch the flower. It was soft, of course, as most flowers were. But it also seemed sturdy and resilient. “It represents determination and beauty. You usually give it to someone after they’ve overcome something big.”

And with this, Jake reaches to pull a flower out by the roots, the bulb of said flower finally seeing the sun. “Dude,” Rich said in reaction, not really knowing what to say.

“Water,” Jake urges, holding his other hand out. Rich gives him the half-empty jug of water, and Jake gently places the uprooted flower into it. With the flower’s height, the roots just barely touches the water enough for it to be sustainable for the plant. Jake pushes the jug into Rich’s chest, so he cradles it in his arms. “I want to see that flower prosper. Replant it. Water it. Love it.” Jake said, and Rich knew deep down he wasn’t just referring to the plant itself. It was  _ his  _ flower, after all.

Rich gingerly places the gallon jug on one of the corners of the planter so it wouldn’t fall over. He then throws his arms around Jake’s shoulder, allowing the other to pull him into a tight embrace. (Although Jake had to hold him just above ground-level to make the hug a little more proportional, Rich enjoyed it none-the-less)

“Flowers need love whether they know it or not. And some people just aren’t willing to give up theirs, no matter how beautiful the flower is. But you gotta give it time. Things just don’t grow in a day. They need some of that TLC, dude. You both just have to be willing to put the effort in.” Jake said, still holding onto Rich. And Rich wasn’t sure exactly when Jake’s advice turned from a metaphor into… not. He also didn’t realize that he had started crying until the tears settled around his mouth.

“Thank you,” Rich whispered when Jake finally put him back down, and he let his tears be wiped away.

* * *

Despite his own protest, Rich ended up staying the night at Jake’s house (“Dude, you dad is gonna be  _ pissed.  _ You might as well have a good excuse.” Jake had argued)

And in many ways, it was just like old times. They--attempted--to make their own dinner, and successfully made homemade macaroni and cheese  _ without  _ burning Jake’s grandparent’s house down. (Though neither joked about this out loud, for obvious reasons.)

But before, Rich hadn’t got to experience how  _ touchy  _ Jake could be. Before, if Rich got too close to anyone physically (apart from in the bedroom) his S.Q.U.I.P would immediately punish him. But now, he was free to choose what he enjoyed and didn’t. (Hugs were a must. So was cuddling. Overall, Rich just like being touched in a non-sexual, non-romantic manner.)

Things were so normal, too. They still agreed that rather than watching a  _ good  _ movie, they should just search for the worst one they could find and make fun of it.

So yeah. Rich kind of liked normal, along with the new bits, too.

Both of them fell asleep on the couch, with only a small blanket covering both of them, with  _ The Loves Of Hercules  _ still playing on the television. And Rich was truly calm, for the first time in a very long while. And, for a moment, he believed that everything would be fine.

And maybe it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is my secret richjake side showing?? sorry i'll just tuck that away real quick....... (no proof read we die like men bc its almost midnight and i have class tomorrow)
> 
> this is mostly a filler chapter and was definitely an excuse to put jake in here bc i love him. but i think the dialogue is important in showing both rich's and jake's feelings bc the show didn't really allow interactions like this to even take place? please just let them have feelings. let them platonically love each other. (and richjake is GREAT, dont get me wrong, but this is 100% an expensive headphones fic through and through. end-goal IS michael and rich. dun worry.)
> 
> this was originally going to be a two-part chapter, one focusing on Rich's weird fire addiction (with the song Arsonist's Lullaby by Hozier) and the other with Jake comforting Rich (with the song Pour Me Out by He Is We) but I figured it would be better to have one long(ish) chapter rather than two short ones, soooo here we are.
> 
> (also jake would DEFINITELY own a garden and theres nothing anyone can say to convince me otherwise.)
> 
> so we're more than halfway done with this baby! let's hope I can keep up the flow and maybe next chapter wont be a complete disaster.
> 
> my tumblr and instagram are captaincremepuff!! I love talking with yall :')


	6. Broken Heart's Delight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Christine said you look like a swamp rat,” He said frankly.
> 
> “Oh...kay?” Rich said in response, not really sure what to say.
> 
> Jake put his phone away and stretched, his stomach exposing briefly as his shirt was pulled up by his body. “She said I have to take you to get clothes. So you don’t look like a swamp rat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Song is broken heart's delight by better luck next time)  
warnings:  
-some self esteem issuses  
I mean, That's It! Nothing explicit happens in this chapter, just some good ol dude fun and then some Soft Feelings near the end.

> " Paint a picture of a certain kind of love and throw it all away
> 
> Help me figure out what this is all about; we're both in this to stay
> 
> Run away, get away, start to say "I'm OK"
> 
> Distance has no meaning when the truth just goes on,
> 
> and on, and on, and on with you. ”

Waking up at Jake’s house made Rich a little disoriented, to say the least.

For a split second, he had forgotten everything that had happened the day before. The fight. Him running away. Their trip to the garden. For that one moment, things were back to the way they were before; Rich, completely normal and not boy-crazy, hanging out with his best friend. But, that wasn’t what was happening.

Rich sat up to stretch, attending to untangle himself from the mess that was the blanket covering both him (and Jake, who was still sleeping soundly.) He turned to stand up off the couch, and he grabbed his phone to walk into the kitchen to get something to eat.

Checking the time, he realized it was much earlier than he thought. It was only about nine in the morning, (which, coincidentally, was Rich’s favorite time to actually eat breakfast.) And although he hadn’t interacted with Jake in a very long time, he felt strangely comfortable to be in the same house as him. It was like a place without any judgement, where he wouldn’t be hounded about his love life or yelled at  _ by  _ his love life. A sanctuary, of sorts.

Rich ended up just toasting himself a bagel, because in his mind, they were the superior breakfast food and he snatches them up any chance he gets.

Breakfast in hand, he shuffled back to the couch to sit down. Jake was still sound asleep next to him, and he made the effort to not disturb the other by sitting too fast or making too much noise. Rich turned on his phone, and had to hold back a groan when he saw the insane amount of notifications he had.  _ Well, this is what I get for running away,  _ he thought to himself, scrolling through the endless amount of messages. Rich unlocks his phone to click on one of the chats.

_ christine: rich??? _

_ christine: okay why did you hang up. what is going on. _

_ christine: oh god im seriosuly swamped with \ _

_ children  _ _ rn but i NEED to know  _

_ you’re okay _

_ christine: is it michael?? _

_ christine: what the HELL did he do i will _

_ literally go to his house and  _

_ smite him _

_ christine: RICH _

_ christine: you dont need to tell me what _

_ happened but at least tell me  _

_ whether or  _ _ not it’s michael so i  _

_ dont beat up the  _ _ wrong guy??? _

_ christine: jesus christ rich i love you but _

_ you make it EXTREMELY difficult  _

_ sometimes _

_ christine: okay. Ill be at michael’s house  _

_ In t-minus one hour.  _ _ I really hope  _

_ thats  _ _ what youre upset about or  _

_ else hes in  _ _ for a very unpleasant  _

_ surprise _

_ christine: and by unpleasant surprise i  _

_ mean me coming to hammer  _

_ him into  _ _ the ground _

Rich made a quiet noise of exasperation, running his fingers through his hair. He suddenly felt guilty for Michael, and for Christine being so worried for him. He was kind of a fucking idiot, which was just starting to become apparent to him. Rich figured it was about time to start working on his skills in proper communication.

Speaking of proper communication, he actually had quite a few messages from Michael. He scrolled right past them, opting rather for sending a text to his brother just to let him know that no, he’s not dead, all he did was spend the night at Jake’s house, and no, there wasn’t a party, and that he probably wouldn’t be back home for a couple of hours.

He ignored the rest of the messages, since they were mostly people who didn’t interact with him and probably only heard the news from Christine (Rich guessed that she sent out a flurry of messages after he first went missing, because that’s such a Christine thing to do)

Rich’s finger hovered over Michael’s contact, wondering if it was worth it to even read the messages that were sent. There were at least eight consecutive messages, which is uncommon for Michael (except for the occasional story when he’s up late at night high) But Rich’s worst fear was having to talk the situation over. He couldn’t even think of what he would say. But he figured that reading what Michael sent him wouldn’t kill him, so he clicked on the chat.

_ headphones nerd: rich?? _

_ headphones nerd: i know you’re mad at me right now. _

_ and you have every right to be.  _

_ I was kind of a massive  _ _ dick and  _

_ you didn’t deserve that. _

_ headphones nerd: i dont know why i acted like that. _

_ I wish i could tell you. Im sorry. _

_ headphones nerd: but dont push others away  _

_ because of me. christine’s really  _

_ worried and  _ _ I think if i were to make  _

_ anything worse  _ _ she’d probably have  _

_ my head. _

_ headphones nerd: im worried about you, too. _

_ I overreacted and i hope there’s  _

_ some way  _ _ that i can make it  _

_ up to you _

_ headphones nerd: you dont need to talk  _ _ right now.  _

_ I wouldn’t blame you if you  _ _ didnt  _

_ ever text me again _

_ headphones nerd: but i want to know  _ _ how you  _

_ really feel. _

_ headphones nerd: and maybe you made  _ _ that  _

_ clear when you walked out. _

_ I don’t  _ _ know. but when you’re  _

_ ready… just talk? _

_ headphones nerd: i don’t care if its now. _

_ I don’t care if it’s in a week.  _

_ hell, i don’t care  _ _ if you text  _

_ me a year later. I do care about _

_ you, even if i made it really  _

_ hard to believe  _ _ that. i want you _

_ to know that from now on, you’re  _

_ safe  _ _ talking to me. _

_ headphones nerd: whenever you’re ready.  _ _ and this  _

_ time, I’ll listen. _

Rich turned his phone off to contemplate the string of texts. They had been sent at some point the night before, probably at the same time Rich had been walking with Jake. Of course, he hadn’t bothered to check any of his texts the day before. And he was sure that seeing what Michael sent in his state yesterday would have sent him into a panic.

He wasn’t going to respond, of course, because what would he even say? There’s nothing  _ to  _ say. Rich had already said all he needed to and Michael had done the same. And that was the end of it. He knew that the only thing that was left to do now was to go to college, and hope that he completely forgets about Michael.

(He didn’t actually hope for that, though. He wanted desperately to call Michael and demand he come to pick him up from Jake’s house. Rich wanted to cry into his shoulder and snuggle and kiss him like he had wanted to for weeks now. Rich wanted… Michael.)

(But he would never admit that to anyone, including himself.)

Beside him, Rich could feel Jake begin to stir as if he were about to wake up. Rich was party relieved, since he’d have some distraction from his situation, and maybe Jake would be able to offer some advice (since he seemed to be suddenly full of that sort of stuff)

Rich shifts in his spot, adjusting himself next to Jake’s moving form.

“Hey,” Rich said when Jake was finally fully sat up. He looked tired still, his eyes struggling to stay open.

Jake made a noise in the back of his throat and nodded once, “Hey.” he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair. He pulled the blanket off of him, and it flopped onto the ground. Jake blinked a few times before looking at Rich again, “What time is it?”

Rich checked his phone, “Nine twenty three,” He said, pocketing his phone when he was finished. Jake huffed out a breath and got up from his spot on the couch, and started looking around. 

“Where’d you put the remote?” he asked, spinning slowly as he surveyed the room.

Rich shrugged, but noticed that Jake was turned away from him. “I dunno,” he said bluntly, checking the empty space on the couch next to him. “You were the one who chose the movie. I thought you had it last.” He got up to check the spot where he was sitting, in case he had sat down on top of it by accident.

A a few buzzing sounds resonated through the room, catching both of their attentions. Jake lifted the blanket from the floor and retrieved his phone--and remove, coincidentally--from underneath, and turned it on. While Jake checked his phone, he absentmindedly turned off the television. He made a face like he was confused, and typed something out. From where Rich was standing, he couldn’t see what was on the phone, but he made an educated guess that whoever was texting was doing it because of him.

“Christine said you look like a swamp rat,” He said frankly.

“Oh...kay?” Rich said in response, not really sure what to say.

Jake put his phone away and stretched, his stomach exposing briefly as his shirt was pulled up by his body. “She said I have to take you to get clothes. So you don’t look like a swamp rat.” He explained, but it didn’t exactly give Rich any real answers. Jake looked down at his own clothing, and smelled his shirt. “I think I’m gonna go and change real quick. Do you… need any clothes to change into? I could probably find something that fits you.”

Rich shrugged, and looked down at the sweatshirt he was wearing. It was stained with dirt--probably from the garden--and he didn’t doubt it had tear and probably snot stains from his breakdown from the day before. “I guess so,” he said, not wanting to sound desperate. But then again, this was Jake he was talking to. “Yeah, that’d be nice. Thank you,” he corrected himself, beginning to shrug off his clothing as Jake ran upstairs to both change and grab Rich some clean clothing.

Jake came back down a few minutes later with new clothes on--just a pink tank top with a little design in the middle, and sweatpants--and he handed Rich a small pile of clothing. Rich immediately put the shirt on, trying not to act subconscious, and he appreciated that Jake had the decency to give him one with sleeves. It was more of a thin sweater than anything else, and had a design of a tiger crushing a soccer ball on the front.    
“Is this… from middle school?” Rich assumed, since the shirt itself was much smaller than the ones Jake usually wore (even if the sleeves were a little long on Rich)

“One year on the soccer team and all I got was a lousy tournament shirt,” Jake laughed, searching for his keys in the front room.

While Jake was out of the room, Rich changed out of his pants from the day before. Jake had handed him a pair of black jeans, which fit him fine, even though the legs were a bit long. He cuffed the bottoms so they wouldn’t get caught underneath his feet, and by the time he was done, Jake was back, twirling his keys around on one finger.

“Alright, let’s head out.” Jake said, grinning.

* * *

Being in Jake’s car again after almost a year brought back memories. Mostly of parties that they had snuck off to together, but there were some other good ones, too. Mall trips were frequent back then, especially right before the holidays or spirit week at school (because of course they had taken stuff like that seriously)

“So, why exactly did Christine choose you specifically to take me to get clothes? And when can I pay you back?” Rich asked, his hand out the window to feel the cool air blowing past.

“Well, I’m not exactly supposed to tell you. And I shouldn’t have said that, because now you’re going to ask  _ what  _ I’m not supposed to tell you,” Jake said, shaking his head. He discreetly pulled his phone out of the cup holder, presumably so Rich couldn’t grab it and try and read his texts. “Just pretend it’s like…” Jake snapped his fingers, trying to come up with an excuse, “A late birthday present. My treat.” He finally provided.

Rich rolled his eyes, smiling anyway. He was rather curious as to what they had planned, but if it had anything to do with Christine, it had to be good and would definitely get Rich in a better mood. He should probably thank Christine more.

Thankfully, the mall was barely a twenty minutes drive from Jake’s house. It was easy to find a parking spot, since it was nearing the middle of the day. Rich got out of the car after if was parked, and waited at the front of it for Jake to come out. They walked to the entrance together, strangely silent.

Rich cleared his throat to ease the tension as he opened the door. “Where are you planning on taking me first? Like, what’s Christine’s suggestion for un-swampifying me?”

“That definitely isn’t a word,” Jake laughed, pocketing his keys. “But I don’t know. Maybe we could just check in the nearest stores, and if we don’t find anything good, then we can move towards the back of the mall?”

Rich thought as they began veering towards the store closest to them. He hadn’t been clothing shopping in a while, so he really didn’t know what to expect. Like, were dressing rooms mandatory? What was Christine expecting him to buy? What if  _ nothing  _ looked good on him?

“Dude,” Jake said, noticing his unease. “I was just gonna buy you, like, a button-down and a tie or something. Don’t worry about looking  _ too  _ good.”

“I was worried about the opposite, actually.” Rich muttered, putting his hands in his pockets.

Jake clapped a hand on his back reassuringly, and somehow, it made Rich feel a lot better. Something about the familiar feeling of Jake being close to him was very comforting, in a way that Rich couldn’t describe. A bit like nostalgia, but for a life that was never really  _ yours.  _

They both entered the clothing store that was nearest to the entrance, and Rich felt a bit overwhelmed. What, exactly, should he be looking for?

But before he could think too deeply about it, Jake put his hand near the middle of his back, and led him a bit further into the store. The fancier--or whatever Middleborough considered fancy--was closer to the back, so Jake stopped him when they got to that section.

“Do you have any color preferences?” Jake said, already taking it upon himself to look through the clothes on the racks. Rich decided to busy himself with doing the same, not really looking for anything in particular.

“Uhm,” Rich said, thinking about what his options were. “Anything but red, I guess.” he decided, pretending to look interested at a shirt with a design including tiny fishes.

“Really?” Jake said, absentmindedly pushing a few shirts to the side so he could continue his pursuit. “I mean, good choice, but I thought red was kind of your thing.” Rich could see Jake looking at him in the corner of his eye, but he didn’t look back. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” Jake said honestly, handing him a few shirts in order to keep looking for others.

While the other looked, Rich took the time to inspect the shirts that had been handed to him. One was just plain pink with small dots lining the entire thing, but the other was black. When Rich lifted it to get a closer look, he saw that there was a little image of a cartoon cat, looking like it was peeking out from the breast pocket.

“Pull the pocket down,” Jake said without looking, but Rich could see a smile on his face. He did, and underneath the fabric of said pocket, was the cartoon cat’s body, where it was holding up a nonchalant middle finger. Rich laughed at this, putting the shirts on his shoulder so he wasn’t tasked with carrying them.

By the time Jake was finished, he had pulled out two more shirts he deemed worthy. One was dark purple, and it had pugs all over it. The other was adorned with an ocean pattern, with fish coming to the surface. Rich could tell Jake had a specific style in shirts, and it was kind of rubbing off on him.

So Rich was in the dressing room, his borrowed shirt off, contemplating which he should try first. “Jake,” he called, hoping his friend could hear him from the outside. 

“Yeah?” Jake replied, but he seemed a bit distant, like he was distracted with something else (Presumably texting Christine, but Rich didn’t want to assume)

“I literally have no idea what I’m doing,” He admitted, shuffling uncomfortably and avoiding looking in the mirror. While he waited for a response, he decided he’d unbutton all the shirts, since he’d try them all on anyways.

“You’re kinda making a big deal out of this, dude,” Jake said, and he sounded a lot closer to the door than he did before. “But that’s fine,” he reassured. “Just do that cat one first. It was funny.”

Rich pulled said shirt over his shoulders, facing himself in a way so that he wouldn’t be able to even glance at the mirrors. The amount of time it took him to button the shirt felt agonizingly long, even though it was probably only a few seconds. His fingers seemed way to big to be fumbling around with buttons this small, and his hands were already shaking. Once he finished the last button, he shook his hands to try and steady himself.

He looked to the mirror at himself after a few seconds, and he felt… okay. Well, not quite that well, but somewhere near there. The shirt was short-sleeved, which Rich hated, because that meant that everyone would be able to see his burn scars, but he thinks the shirt itself makes up for that major flaw. He tries not to dwell on it for too long, and decides to walk out of the dressing room for more inspection.

Jake wolf-whistles jokingly as he walks out, which makes him smile stupidly, even if that’s exactly how he felt; stupid.

“I don’t really like… this,” He gestures to his arms, mainly blaming the short sleeves for his discomfort.

“Well, I think it looks great, dude,” Jake says, and it seems like he’s being completely honest, which fills Rich with a bit of confidence. “The pink one has longer sleeves, but it’s not as fun,” Rich nods in agreement and walks back inside the dressing room.

They go back and forth like this for the next half hour; changing in-between shirts (Jake even went to go get a few ties to see what would match best) And after some lengthy decision making--albeit a little uncomfortable one on Rich’s side--he finally bit the bullet and went with the cat one. Because it was pretty funny, and Jake had found a funny tie with cat faces that matched almost perfectly.

Rich had put back on his original clothing while Jake went to pay for their purchases, and he decided to put the other shirts back on the rack (approximately where they belonged. He didn’t exactly see where Jake had gotten them, but he guessed it was better than nothing).

He met up with Jake near the entrance, and the other dropped the back of clothes into his hands as they started walking out.

Getting into Jake’s car, Rich immediately settled back in the seat, the plastic bag resting on his lap. Jake got into the car soon after him, turning it on and pulling out of the mall parking lot. “That was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be,” Rich admitted, looking at the trees passing outside the window.

“You just gotta be willing to give things a chance, man. Now you’ve got a funny ass cat shirt with a matching tie.” Jake said, turning the volume on the stereo up. It was a song that Rich didn’t really recognize, so he tuned out after a while.

Rich only got the suspicion that something was wrong when Jake took a left turn off of an exit, when he should have kept going straight. If they were going to Jake’s house, that it. But he trusted his friend, and knew that nothing bad would happen while he was there.

He glanced at his phone subconsciously, but saw that he had a text from Christine. Rich unlocked his own phone to check it, and he smiled.

_ christine: i cant wait to see you!!! (✿◠‿◠) _

At first, Rich didn’t think anything of it. If anything, he couldn’t wait to see Christine either. But he couldn’t imagine a circumstance where he would be seeing her if they were driving this route, unless--

“Hey, uh… Jake? Where are we going?” Rich asked, rereading Christine’s text again.

Jake, at first, didn’t respond. But he seemed to notice how nervous Rich was acting, and decided to finally say something. “Christine just told me where to go. It’s fine, man, I’m sure she’s got something planned.”

They rode for a few more minutes, Rich trying to focus all of his attention on the music rather than his own anxieties. This route was  _ way  _ too familiar, it couldn’t be--

“Oh, Jesus  _ fucking  _ Christ.” Rich said as Jake slowed to a stop in front of an all-too familiar building. It was Michael’s house. “I am going to have a  _ word  _ or two with Christine,” Rich grumbles, trying to contain his anger. And to make matters worse, Michael was standing on the porch, and could clearly see the car pull up. And Jake was already getting out. And Rich was ready to explode.

Rich stayed in the car for a few more minutes, trying to ignore the conversation that Michael and Jake were having  _ just outside _ . He considered staying in the same spot for as long as he could, and maybe they’d forget he was there and move on. But of course, that wouldn’t happen. He fell right into Christine’s clever little trap.

The conversation outside stopped, and so did Rich’s heart. He peeked out the window and saw that Jake had disappeared somewhere, and it was just Michael, standing a few feet from the car awkwardly. And Rich hated how  _ fucking cute  _ he had to be. He should be hating his guts right now, but he’s not.

Rich finally decided that he had pouted for long enough, so he opened the car door to stand up outside. The air was fresh out here. He had always loved being at Michael’s house because of this. But now it just seemed like it was mocking him.

Michael looked over when he heard the car door slam, and he had a relieved smile on his face. He trotted over rather quickly, and pulled him into a tight hug. Rich stiffened in his arms, and Michael immediately pulled away. “I’m sorry, I just… I’m sorry. I should have asked first.” he said, taking a few steps back. He seemed nervous. Probably just as much as Rich was.

“I’m sorry,” They both said in unison, surprising each other. Michael laughed out loud, and Rich hated the fact it still made his stomach jump.

Michael held his arms out, a clear invitation. Rich resisted the urge to turn away like a child. He, instead, walked into the embrace. His arms were crossed over his own chest, and Michael’s were wrapped around him. It was comforting, and Rich had forgotten just how much he missed this, even in the day he was gone.

“You’re gonna be mad at me,” Michael said as he slowly rocked back and forth, making Rich feel at ease. “Again,” he huffed out a breath, combing a hand through Rich’s hair. He was suddenly glad he couldn’t see Michael’s face, or else he probably would have broken down already. “It was, uh… Christine’s idea. She felt bad that you had missed out on junior year. She wanted to throw you your own prom, except…” He took a breath, “Except with less people, because she knew you wouldn’t like a big turnout, and I guess I was wondering if you’d--”

“Yes,” Rich said, before Michael even got a chance to finish.

“Yes…?”

“Yes, I’ll be your date to my own prom. If that was what you were asking, of course.” Rich said, finally wrapping his arms around Michael and digging his face into the crook of his neck.

“Yeah,” Michael said, and he seemed like he was suddenly out of breath. Rich could feel Michael's lips pressed to the top of his head briefly, “Okay, I…” He laughed a bit, clearly nervous. “I didn’t think I’d get this far, wow. I was expecting a punch to the face by now.”

“I missed you,” Rich said, ignoring Michael’s previous statement, and his own pride, apparently.

“It’s only been a day,” Michael said, wordlessly (and effortlessly,  _ wow _ ) picking Rich up so his legs were wrapped around his waist. He sighed quietly, “I missed you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh BOY i don't know why this chapter was so hard for me to write. I totally had 0 plans for this so i kinda just... winged it?  
oh oops.  
But I liked the idea of the Boys just hangin like old times so i ran with that. Next chapter was 100% planned since the beginning cuz i noticed early on that MY BOY MISSED JUNIOR PROM!!!! But I kind of took the planned beginning of the next chapter and shoved it at the end of this one? I don't know. I even considered cutting down the amount of chapters to seven JUST so i wouldn't have to write this one but it turned out alright i guess??
> 
> also to those who are thinking that rich forgave michael way too fast....... he just wanted a hug okay. they'll talk about the situation at some point (cough next chapter), so there will be more BAD feelings. happy??  
(strong michael is also very hot thank you)
> 
> remember: just bc school started for me doesnt mean i DON"T like talking to yall!! in fact, I LOVE IT!! all your comments are making me uwu!!  
with that being said, both my tumblr and instagram are captaincremepuff!! i dont bite unless you ask me to!!


	7. Tiny Dancer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You should probably talk to him,” Christine said, her voice quiet, so Rich was the only one who could hear. She didn’t have to elaborate about who she was talking about, because Rich already knew.
> 
> Rich swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “I probably should. I just…” he cleared his throat silently. “I don’t know what I would say. I mean… We already kind of got all our feelings out, before…” Rich stopped himself before he had the chance to say something stupid, or before his voice starting cracking in the telltale sign he was about to start crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (song: Tiny Dancer by Elton John)  
warnings:  
-FEELINGS  
-a little nsfw mentioned  
(not anything explicit, but still pretty sexual)  
I hope I didn't miss anything! Please enjoy the chapter and my boys :)

> “But oh, how it feels so real
> 
> Lying here with no one near
> 
> Only you and you can hear me
> 
> When I say softly, slowly,
> 
> Hold me closer, tiny dancer
> 
> Count the headlights on the highway
> 
> Lay me down on sheets of linen
> 
> You had a busy day today. ”

“Dude, if you don’t get changed quicker than I swear Christine will come in here and kill the both of us,” Jake said from outside the bathroom door. He sounded like he was leaned in close, just to make sure Rich heard him.

“I think you fail to realize that this prom was made for me. I think she’ll let me take my time,” Rich said, finishing buttoning his shirt. Given the circumstances, the shirt that both him and Jake had agreed on didn’t really seem practical, but it was still funny. Rich popped his collar and looped the tie around his throat, trying to recall exactly how to tie it. “Plus, didn’t she say she was still getting stuff ready? She only got started on it like, an hour ago.”

Rich heard the door open and saw Jake peeking in through the mirror. For some reason, he didn’t feel even a sliver of discomfort.

“For the love of all things holy, Rich, get some  _ pants  _ on.” he said, shaking his head disapprovingly and walking in to close the door behind him. Jake had apparently been in on the whole ‘fake prom’ plan, because while they were shopping, Christine has stopped by his house to grab the tux he had worn to their  _ actual  _ junior prom. It was light pink, and it quite frankly, it looked  _ very  _ good on him (Rich would never say that outloud, though).

Rich groans in frustration as he unties his failed knot, “Gimme a minute,”

“Come here,” Jake says, pulling Rich around so he was facing him. Jake worked at the tie, far faster than Rich could have, and he tried to follow the motions Jake’s hands were going through and commit them to memory. After a few seconds of looping, Jake pulled the knot taut around his neck. “Is that alright? You want it snug, but not like… choking you, or anything.”

Rich pulled at his collar instinctively, even if it wasn’t necessarily too tight. “It’s good.” He looked in the mirror at himself and laughed, “Are people gonna think I’m a crazy cat women or something?”

“No, you look fine,” Jake said, reaching for the side of the sink to grab a hair tie, “Here,” He said, standing behind Rich and grabbing a hold of his hair. He ran his fingers through it to make sure there were no tangles, and gathered a bit to pull it back against Rich’s head into a small ponytail.

“I should probably get a cut,” Rich said, referring to his long hair. He had barely got it trimmed since junior year, so whenever he tied it back, it was very close to crossing man-bun territory. He didn’t necessarily  _ dislike  _ having long hair, even if it was a hassle sometimes, it just wasn’t a very…  _ professional  _ look.

“I think it suits you,” Jake said, playing with the tail for a second. He saw Rich’s look of doubt in the mirror. “I’m serious! It does.” he backs up to look Rich up and down in the mirror. “You look good. Now get some pants on before Christine barges in here and puts some on you herself.

Rich rolls his eyes, smiling as Jake opens the door and walks out of the bathroom. He takes a few seconds to look at himself in the mirror, but stops when he starts to get the urge to change into different clothes. He takes a deep breath and pulls his jeans up over his legs, taking the extra time to tug his shirt into the jeans before buttoning them.

Without looking at himself again--because the temptation to run away was still very much there--he walked out of the bathroom. At the end of the hallway stood Christine, shouting something to someone who was blocked by the wall. The person said something back, and she smiled contently. 

Although she sounded like a drill sergeant, she definitely didn’t look the part. It certainly wasn’t what Christine wore to prom--no, she wouldn’t go overboard for something like this, it still looked good on her. To be fair, pretty much anything looked good on Christine. She was wearing a rather simple dress, a white knitted top and a bottom that blossomed off into several different kinds of flowers.

Christine turned around, squinting a little in the dark hallway. She didn’t seem to know what she was looking at, but then her face lit up. “Rich!” she said excitedly, and ran over to hug his middle, hard.

“Oof,” Rich said in response, steadying himself so he didn’t fall over. “Good to see you too, Christine,” He said, out of breath from the other’s incessant squeezing. He heard her groan, and she seemed conflicted before pulling away.

“I’m supposed to be mad at you right now,” She said frankly, her hands still grabbing Rich’s to swing them around playfully. “Cuz you hung up on me and ran away. And then you didn’t respond to any of my text and I thought you died, or something.” Christine muttered, squeezing Rich’s hands a few times. “But you look so  _ cute! _ ” She counters herself, hugging Rich once again (softer this time). “And I also planned a bombass fake prom for you, so…” She said, with no intention of finishing her statement.

Rich stayed quiet for a few seconds, not really knowing how to respond. Of course, he needed to apologize, and probably thank her for sending out an entire search party for him yesterday. But he was finding it hard to articulate exactly how he felt, especially since he was a little overwhelmed right now.

“I’m sorry,” Rich mutters. Well, that was a start. They swayed back and forth for a few dozen seconds as Rich tried to figure out exactly how he was feeling. “I was scared. I don’t think I was in the right state of mind to see anyone. I was kind of a huge fucking mess, so I panicked. I just… I didn’t want you to baby me.” he explained, hoping it was enough for Christine to get how he felt.

“Oh, Rich,” She said in a sympathetic voice, pulling away. “I’ll  _ always  _ baby you,” She mumbled, squeezing his cheeks between her hands. “But,” Christine backed up a few paces to give Rich some room, letting go of his face. “I understand. I’ll… try not to overwhelm you next time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rich said, his voice almost silent. “Thank you, Christine. For… literally everything.”

Christine grins and huffs a breath out of her nose, “Alright, nerd,” She says playfully. Gently grabbing Rich’s hand, she slowly leads him out of the house. “Dance with me?” she asks sincerely, her voice suddenly soft.

Rich nods, but realizes that Chrstine probably didn’t see because she was facing away from him. He clears his throat, “Sure, I’d… I’d love to.”

He couldn’t see her face, but he could still tell that she was smiling. They slip out the backdoor, and Rich takes a second to take in the scenery. The old gazebo that stood in Michael’s backyard was transformed, fairy lights strung from the rafters with cute streamers to match. There was a plastic table just on the outside of it that was filled with snacks and a few different types of beverages. In other words, Christine went all out.

Jake was talking with Jeremy, who was drinking something out of a solo cup. Michael was also standing with them, but Rich tried his hardest not to make eye contact. At least, not yet.

“Um, nuh-uh,” Christine said when Michael began to approach them. “I get to dance with him first. Maybe you’ll get a chance later, but for now… back off, Mell.” she grabbed around Rich’s arm protectively, taking him to the small open space underneath the gazebo. She spun around to face him, their hands slipping together naturally. Christine pulled him a bit closer as the music started playing through the bluetooth speaker.

“ _ Love of my life, you’ve hurt me. _

_ You’ve broken my heart and now you leave me.” _

The music resonated in the small space softly, the sound of a piano and a harp soothing Rich’s nerves. He didn’t recognize the song, but the singer sounded familiar.

“You should probably talk to him,” Christine said, her voice quiet, so Rich was the only one who could hear. She set a hand on Rich’s waist, the other holding up his hand. Rich’s other hand was resting on her arm, allowing Christine to easily lead. (since Rich, clearly, didn’t know the first thing about dancing) She didn’t have to elaborate about who she was talking about, because Rich already knew.

“ _ Love of my life, can’t you see? _

_ Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me _

_ Because you don’t know what it means to me.” _

Rich swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “I probably should. I just…” he cleared his throat silently, hoping the music would keep him semi-calm. “I don’t know what I would say. I mean… We already kind of got all our feelings out, before…” Rich stopped himself before he had the chance to say something stupid, or before his voice starting cracking in the telltale sign he was about to start crying. He held back, though, taking a deep breath through his nose.

The fear in his heart settled when he realized that at some time tonight, Michael would corner him, and he’d have to come up with something to say. A sense of dread filled his head, and he wondered what would be  _ worth  _ saying. He already knew how Michael felt. That was clear to him now. Rich just needed to figure how  _ he  _ felt, within the next… few… hours…

Oh god, he couldn’t do this.

“ _ Love of my life, don’t leave me. _

_ You’ve taken my love and now desert me _

_ Love of my life, can’t you see? _

_ Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me _

_ Because you don’t know what it means to me.” _

“I’m sure that Michael has more he wants to say to you, now that he’s had time to think it through.” Christine explains. Their slow dancing wasn’t quite  _ dancing,  _ just a simple swaying that both of them were comfortable enough with, so there was minimal fumbling and more brain-space to keep conversation.

Rich had to admit to himself that what Christine said was probably true. Their fight--well,  _ argument-- _ was a lot more heat-of-the-moment than it was real-rational-thought, even on Rich’s part. Well, he also figured he should take more blame than he gave himself. He was kind of the one to start the whole thing in the first place. Him and his  _ stupid  _ mouth.

“ _ You will remember when this is blown over,  _

_ and everything’s all by the way. _

_ When I grow older, I will be there at your side  _

_ To remind you how much I still love you.” _   


“I guess you’re right, but--” he starts

“Of  _ course  _ I’m right,” Christine interrupts, sticking her tongue out playfully.

Rich rolls his eyes and continues, “ _ But,  _ you already know how bad I am at conveying my feelings. What if I fuck it up again, and say something stupid, and he’s reminded that I’m an idiot he shouldn’t even be talking to?” He said, half sarcastically. This was a true fear of his, but it was completely irrational, considering Michael waited all this time just to talk with him.

Christine stopped their swaying to give him a solid shake to snap him out of his stupidity, “Rich, you are a  _ wonderful  _ person and anyone in this world would be lucky to have you!” she stage whispers, and Rich doesn’t even glance at anyone else. Even if their attention was drawn, he wouldn’t know. He didn’t really care, either.

“Maybe,” He says simply, a smile plastered on his face.  _ God,  _ he was lucky to have Christine. 

Rich could see her glance up at something behind him, and he breaks away in order to turn around. Michael stood a few feet away, a little awkward. He was wearing what Rich guessed to be his prom tux, which was just black with an annoyingly bright green bowtie. And he was just so stupidly cute.

“Your turn?” Christine asks playfully. 

Michael rubbed at the back of his neck nervously, “I mean, if he wants to, I could just-- _ oof--”  _ he was cut off when Christine shoved Rich into his chest, Michael having to regain his balance until both him and Rich went to the ground. He instinctively grabs Rich’s shoulders while steadying himself, and Rich has to resist the urge to pull away.

“Oh god, sorry!” Christine apologized, clearly holding back her laughter. “That was supposed to be, like,  _ way  _ softer,” she explains, some giggles breaking through her professional facade. “Okay, you two can…” She makes vague motions with her hands rather than finishing her sentence, and quickly walks away to join Jake and Jeremy at the snack table.

When Rich finally looks Michael in the eyes, the entire rest of the world fades away. The background conversations don’t quite reach his ears, and the music is a blur. Rich lets out a breath, hoping his wonder wasn’t evident.

He’s partly knocked out of his daze when Michael’s hands start moving down his arms. “Can I…?” Michael asks quietly, and Rich nods, and his hands continue to move downward until they wrap comfortably around Rich’s waist. 

Rich shifts a bit before wrapping his arms around Michael’s middle, pulling him closer until their bodies were touching. “I’m… sorry.” he starts, while trying to keep his eyes from darting around. He wills himself to look Michael in the eyes, even if it makes him a little uncomfortable. Rich felt he’d be able to get his point across better with eye contact, even if it wasn’t ideal for either of them.

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing right now,” Michael says, and his face was almost unreadable. That was the thing about him. Rich used to think that he was really good at reading people’s feelings, but… Michael was almost like a closed book. And it was like a challenge to try and find out what he was really thinking. Maybe that’s why Rich liked him so much. “I overreacted. I didn’t have any idea what I was talking about, and I just… I…” Michael stutters.

Michael takes a few deep breaths, his eyes closed in concentration. “It’s okay,” Rich says, and Michael opens his eyes again. “Really. It’s okay. Take… take your time.”

He smiles in response, his arms tightening a bit around Rich’s body. “I was scared,” He said truthfully, a nervous half-smile on his face. Michael glanced away for a second, blinking hard. “I’m sorry. My emotions were  _ so  _ messed up. I didn’t mean to  _ hurt  _ you, and there’s really no good excuse for what I did. You don’t have to forgive me, but--”

“Michael,” Rich interrupted, huffing out a breath. “Of course I’m gonna forgive you. I really don’t think I’m capable of holding a grudge against you.”

Michael grinned playfully, his mood completely changing. “I really don’t think that’s true, but I’ll believe you.” They both leaned forward in unison, pressing their foreheads against each others. “So, what… what are we gonna do?” he mumbled, turning serious again.

Rich took the time to think it over. He considered all his options, of course, but he couldn’t help but feel like he already had his answer. He knew that Michael was going to a college hours away, and contact would be limited. Rich didn’t even know exactly what he was doing himself, other than going to a community college to try and continue his education. In what, he didn’t know.

He opened his eyes after what felt like an eternity passed, and Michael was looking at him, their faces close enough to touch. “Michael, I love you,” Rich said frankly, sighing. He tried to prepare himself for what came next, but there was no easy way of doing this. “But… I think we both need time to figure things out, apart from each other. We’ve both got so many things that need working on, and we probably need to grow the fuck up before getting involved.”

“So… you want to take a  _ break _ ,” Michael said, a little vexed.

Rich tried to find a way to explain himself, his mouth open awkwardly as if he were about to say something anytime now. He furrowed his brow, thinking over his words carefully. “I guess. I mean, I still  _ want  _ to be involved with you. I just feel like we can’t keep running around in the same circles without  _ learning  _ anything.” he explains. “We can…  _ try  _ being apart. And if we both find that nothing has improved on our own,” Rich shrugs, smiling a bit. “ _ Then  _ we can do it together.”

Michael raised an eyebrow and smiled, “But we’re still together for tonight, right?” he said, swaying gently.

Rich rolled his eyes over exaggeratedly, debating whether or not he should answer at all. Of course, Michael would be the type of person to flirt during a situation like this. He did bring up a good point, though, one last night to talk through their issues before being apart for an extended amount of time. He liked the way Michael thought. “Sure. We can be together for tonight.”

“Good,” he said, and leaned in to kiss Rich.

And he almost pulled away, embarrassed to be showing affection to his not-boyfriend in front of all his friends, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He wouldn’t admit it outloud, but it was nice to kiss Michael again. He liked that Michael’s glasses would sometimes press up against his face and leave a mark, and then he’d have an excuse to take them off for him. He liked that sometimes Michael would trail away, and leave kisses all over his face. He liked Michael.

For a moment, he almost didn’t feel uncomfortable anymore, it was as if it was natural to be like this. (That was, until, Michael discreetly tried to grab his ass)

Rich hissed and pulled away, “ _ Michael _ ,” he said scolding, hoping that was enough warning for the other.

And Michael, the absolute  _ demon,  _ had a stupid grin on his face like he knew exactly what he was doing. Of course, he did, he was a rational adult who was very clever and who also drove Rich completely crazy. “What?” He asked innocently, taking one of Rich’s hands in his.

Shaking his head in exasperation, Rich stepped back to untangle himself from Michael’s grasp. “C’mon, Romeo,” He teased, winking. “We’ve gotta socialize before they start to get suspicious.”

“Why do  _ I  _ have to be Romeo?” Michael complained as Rich dragged him away to join the rest of the group.

* * *

So, in short, Rich’s prom was pretty damn good. Michael’s mothers thankfully didn’t question them, thought it was clear they wanted to. It was also clear that Christine didn’t really get permission to use their backyard, but they didn’t seem to mind that either.

Rich had felt more comfortable in a group now than he had for the last year, which was a relief (especially considering that he would have to be around groups for another full school year in only a few weeks once he went off to college) But that did make sense. It was all the people that he now trusted, and people he could finally consider his friends once again.

A lot had changed after the S.Q.U.I.Pcident, but Rich was glad that he was back in a place where he felt at home (even though he never really felt at home anywhere with an actual S.Q.U.I.P, but maybe that was just part of it’s programming. He had shoved most of his super computer related information to the back of his brain, for obvious reasons).

After the party was over--well past midnight, mind you--the group strayed away to their own vehicles and said their goodbyes. Rich didn’t make any effort to get a ride from anyone, since he knew a night with Michael was much needed. He waved to Christine as she pulled away, and he’d have to remember to text her in the morning to thank her again.

He felt a pressure on his hand, and he looked down to see that Michael had grabbed it. He had a small smile on his face, even without looking at Rich directly. Rich smiled, too, and tugged on the other’s hand to try and get him to go inside.

The backyard was probably a bit of a mess, but they had cleaned most of it up before deciding to end their festivities. Michael and Rich both silently agreed that would be a problem for the morning, so they both walked inside to creep downstairs to Michael’s room. Being completely silent was key--at least until they were in the basement--because they knew that Michael’s mothers had both went to sleep hours ago.

“Hey,” Rich said once they finally walked down the stairs into Michael’s bedroom, their hands still connected.

Michael smiled down at him, his thumb rubbing against the back of Rich’s hand. “Hey,” he responded, his voice quiet.

They just looked at each other for a few seconds, taking everything in. Rich could feel a smile forming on his face, and he just couldn’t help it. He broke away for a few seconds in order to wrap his arms around Michael’s neck to kiss him.

Michael responded accordingly, his arms creeping around Rich’s waist to pull him in closer, taking in the gentle vibrations of the moan Rich gave in reaction to the close proximity. He could feel himself being carefully led across the room, neither able to pull away from each other. 

Rich placed a hand on Michael’s chest when he felt the back of his legs press up against something solid, and pulled away to press his face into Michael’s jaw. Breathlessly, he left open-mouthed kisses across the expanse of the other’s neck, restraining himself from leaving any visible marks, as tempting as it was.

In response to this, Michael gingerly lowered Rich onto his bed, and climbed up on top, his thighs on either side of Rich’s stomach. “What do you want?” Michael asked, leaning in close. And Rich appreciated the gesture, but…

Rich struggled taking off Michael’s bowtie, getting increasingly frustrated, “I don’t care. I want you,” he huffed, debating if ripping it off was worth it. “How the fuck does this thing work?”

Michael chuckled and pulled away so he was upright, and dexterously undid the bowtie. Rich could tell that it was probably expensive by the way that he carefully placed it on the ground next to his bed, rather than throwing it like he would anything else.

“Come here, I wanna unbutton you myself,” Rich said, not bothering to move an inch. He accentuated his need by making grabby-hands in Michael’s direction.

Michael complied, scooting forward and leaning over so Rich could easily take off his suit jacket and dress shirt. Although he did struggle, considering the position and the fact that Rich’s hands are not as deft as they used to be, he managed to unbutton everything (while still looking appealing while doing it, taking into account Michael’s obvious red face).

Michael shrugged off the articles of clothing that he could, placing them on the ground for later handling. Rich groaned impatiently when he saw that Michael was wearing an undershirt, and grabbed at it before the other even got a chance to react.

“I need you naked like,  _ yesterday _ ,” Rich whined, trying to sit up so he could pull the undershirt over Michael’s head (Rich apparently wasn’t sitting up high enough to do so, and the shirt ended up getting stuck, but Michael quickly maneuvered himself so that it was out of the way and out of sight.

Rich huffed out a breath when Michael leaned forward to kiss him, and he barely brushed his lips when Rich stubbornly turned his head away. This didn’t stop Michael, however, who decided he’d just kiss down his neck, occasionally scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin. “For the love of  _ god,  _ Michael,” Rich whimpers, restless in every sense of the word. He tried grabbing around to try and find his way to the button of Michael’s pants, but his head was foggy and he couldn’t focus. “Please,”

He could feel Michael chuckle against his neck, and the other finally gave him the liberty of sitting up and undoing his pants. (There was no real ‘button’, since dress pants fucking hate Rich apparently, so his groping would have done nothing) But he only pulled them down just enough to see the waistband of his boxers before abandoning himself completely in favor of undoing Rich’s tie.

Letting Michael work on that, he reached a hand around until it was carefully touching the back of Michael’s right thigh. He let that hand wander, the gentle touch to such a sensitive area making Michael respond physically. Rich could occasionally feel the other’s thigh tense up if he got too close to his crotch, and he could feel Michael’s hands shaking as he attempted to undress him.

“Rich,” Michael warned, pulling the tie up over his head and throwing it behind him. Quick to obey, Rich stilled his hand, opting to instead squeeze Michael’s thighs encouragingly. It was becoming clear who was in charge here, and Rich was alright with that.

Pulling his arms from out of his shirt, Rich let Michael drop it on the floor behind him. He then felt Michael press down again him, gasping at the sudden friction. But as quick as it came, it was gone, and Michael was back to holding himself up on his knees. Rich’s hips bucked up as he whined at the loss, trying to coax Michael closer.

Michael pushed Rich’s hips onto the bed with a hand, stuttering the movement. “No,” he whispered, pulling his pants down with his free hand. In the position they were in, there was really no way to get rid of Michael’s pants without doing a little maneuvering, and it was clear that’s not what Michael was going to do. Rich tried to help pull his pants down, but he was stopped. “Rich,” Michael said, looking him in the eyes. “I wanna go slow. Since this might be the last time we do this.”

Rich stopped to consider that. And clearly he didn’t  _ want  _ that to be the case, but Michael did have a very compelling point.

“Okay,” he responded, pulling Michael down towards him by the shoulders. “Slow it is,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its about TIME i used an elton john song!!!! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and i hope you all enjoyed reading it. feelings are really Hard right now so i hope i was able to portray the boys emotions in a way that's understandable and healthy i guess. sorry guys. a lot of bad stuff is going on in my life right now so my feelings are all wack.
> 
> i KNOW this wasn't what yall expected, but WE'VE STILL GOT A WHOLE CHAPTER LEFT!!!! Do. Not. Worry. I promised end-goal expensive headphones, and I WILL deliver. just... not in the most conventional way lol. But be patient! The final ending I have planned should be worth it
> 
> this chapter also goes out to a dear friend who's going through a rough time right now. you know who you are. so... hey dude. i don't know if you're even reading this right now. but if you are, i hope you're doing alright. there's so much I want to say right now, but... I'll save it. Hope to hear from you soon. im so, so sorry.
> 
> remember, I'm happy to talk to all yall!!! i seriously need friends so... .-.  
my tumblr and instagram are captaincremepuff!!


	8. First Day of My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, uh… Michael’s here.” he says, which was kind of fucking obvious at this point.
> 
> “I know,” Rich mutters, not able to meet Jeremy’s eyes. “I kind of figured, since, you know… You guys are still close. This is your wedding, afterall.”
> 
> “Oh,” Jeremy says awkwardly, and he rubs the back of his neck nervously, “I mean, Christine thinks--I… I think that you should talk to him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (song: First Day of My Life by Bright Eyes)  
warnings:  
-NONE! enjoy the chapter, my chili babies...  
I went easy on yall with this. You got the good ending (this time...)

> "I think I was blind before I met you
> 
> I don't know where I am, I don't know where I've been
> 
> But I know where I want to go
> 
> And I thought I'd let you know
> 
> That these things take forever,
> 
> I especially am slow
> 
> But I realized that I need you, 
> 
> and I wondered if I could come home."

It had been a full year since the Michael Situation, and a full year since Rich had been back home.

College was great, and Rich had blossomed in the new environment that was rid of all his problems. On a whim, he had chosen to get a bachelor’s in music, and it was increasingly becoming a good choice.Teaming up with some of his classmates, he had formed a band from the ground up. Of course, they hadn’t gotten any stroke of fame, but performing at local bars and before concerts for larger bands was still something he enjoyed.

Rich had changed, too. With all of the old memories from his junior year shoved away, he was able to let loose and talk to people like he had been able to before. Parties were a regular occurrence, and he finally began to enjoy going to them again (which was a relief, because you can’t really be in a band if you don’t like the thrill of groups and interacting with said groups). He learned how to be a person, on his own, without the help of an evil computer.

It was a relief. He was living. And he loved it.

He had thought that staying in touch with his friends from highschool would have been hard, especially since thinking about ‘ the old days’ made him a little nauseous, but Rich didn’t even think he survive a week without taking the bus to the next city just so he could see Christine (and Jeremy, by extension).

Christine was still his best friend, even though he had earned some other close ones. She was thankfully going to a college that was only twenty minutes away from Rich’s, so visits were very common. He was surprised that hanging out with Christine was just as easy as it was before, even if she reminded him of, well..

Well, Michael.

According to Jeremy, he had also cut close to all contact with anyone from highschool, aside from him (Rich didn’t think that Michael would be able to live a day without talking to Jeremy at least once)

And at first, it hurt him. Everything that him and Michael shared was gone, almost as if it didn’t happen, But it  _ did.  _ And Michael seemed to have moved on, but Rich… Rich couldn’t. There were times where he would  _ almost  _ call Michael, but then he would have to get out of his own head for a while, or go to the gym, or go over to hang out with Christine to distract himself.

But Rich tried to live in the present rather than dwelling in the past.

Like right now, he was sitting with Christine in a coffee shop, just like they did every Sunday right before Rich was supposed to go to work.

“So, we’ve got a gig next week,” Rich said casually, taking a sip from his coffee cup. He cringed at the taste, black coffee definitely wasn’t his  _ favorite,  _ but he also didn’t need the sugar that any other order would have given him, so… disgusting dark roast it is.

“Really? Where are you playing?” Christine mumbled after she swallows a bite of her donut (which Rich didn’t get. He had to work his ass off to get back in shape, and Christine could eat just about anything and not gain a single pound)

Rich shrugged, pushing his cup closer to the middle of the table. “Some bar out of town called The Bourbon Room,”

Christine grinned, casually licking some chocolate off her finger, “I heard of that place. Some pretty big band got started over there, maybe you guys will finally get your big break. The owner still keeps in touch with the lead singer, you could ask him.”

Rich rolled his eyes, smiling. He had all but given up hope of ever getting his band anywhere the first few months it had first formed. He knew exactly how hard it was to make it big in a country like this, you have to be lucky as  _ hell  _ to get a good enough producer to make it big. “Maybe,” he said solemnly, and he could see the look on Christine’s face. The look she gave him when he was being too depressing or not hopeful enough. “I’ll ask him, but I doubt he’ll give me an answer.”

She slams her hands down on the table dramatically, “Rich, you and your band  _ will  _ be the next big hit! I can feel it.” She said, but Rich glanced down at her hands, and--

“ _ Christine,”  _ he says in surprise. “Oh my god, is that--”

Once Christine finally realized what he was talking about, she brings her left hand up to her chest to shield it from his sight. “ _ Damn it _ ! I thought you wouldn’t notice! It was supposed to be a surprise!” she says, exasperated. 

Rich makes a grabbing motion towards her, and she finally relents, rolling her eyes as she holds out her left hand. He fiddles with the ring on her finger, studying the etchings in the side. “Wow,” he says, smiling uncontrollably. “So who popped the question?”

She pulled the ring off her finger so Rich could get a closer look, “I mean, we both kind of agreed months ago, but… I just couldn’t take that, so I proposed last week.” Christine giggles, wringing her hands together. “He was, like,  _ stupidly  _ surprised. I feel like he was considering proposing but I guess I beat him to it?”

On the inside of the ring, etched into the metal, was the date they got together, and Jeremy’s name.  _ Romantic pieces of shit,  _ he thinks to himself, with absolutely no malice behind the words. After Rich had thoroughly investigated the ring, he hands it back, and Christine slips it back on her finger. “That’s fucking adorable. How’d you do it?”

Christine shrugs, smiling down at the ring and she slowly spins it with her other hand. “I took him to see a show. I don’t know, some local actors were putting on a performance and I thought it’d be a better time than any.”

Leave it to Christine Canigula to propose at a play.

“But, I figured it’d also be the best time for this…” Christine droned, pulling away from the table so she could reach into her pocket. She slid a small piece of folded paper across the table, Rich’s name written across the front in beautiful calligraphy, with tiny hearts on either side.

He raised an eyebrow at Christine as he opened up the note, and read what it said.

“Oh my god,” Rich mumbled, completely nonplussed. He felt his body stand up quickly, almost knocking his chair to the ground. Taking a few minutes to steady the chair, Christine also stands up. From across the table, he wrapped his arms around her, a shaky breath coming out through his nose.

“So, is that a yes?” Christine asks into his neck, almost silent. 

Rich laughs, his voice wavering with the effort of trying not to cry. “I didn’t even know that a man of honor  _ existed  _ until today,” he sighs, pulling away to wipe at the tears that threatened to fall. “But… yes. I’ll be your male maid of honor.”

“Just ‘man of honor’ is more than fine,” Christine teases, cupping Rich’s face in her hand. He leans into the touch, feeling warm tears drip down his face. “Now get the hell to work before you’re late. I don’t want to have to hear you complaining about your boss when we could be planning my  _ wedding _ ,” she whispers, wiping Rich’s tears away. (Rich felt less nervous about crying when he saw Christine’s eyes start to mist over).

“Wedding,” Rich repeated quietly, still in awe. “Okay, I… I’ll see you later,``he mutters. It took him a few seconds to finally pull away, but through his whole shift, he felt like he was floating on air.

* * *

What seems to be a common theme for Rich this night is remembering how easy  _ planning  _ the wedding was, but executing it seemed impossibly difficult.

Christine also seemed overwhelmed, and they had barely gotten started with their preparations. Rich had tried his hardest to pick up the bulk of the work, since it was Christine’s special day, after all, but the effort of it all made him look frazzled and… nervous.

Rich wanted desperately for Christine to have a good wedding. It was what she deserved, for everything she’s ever done for, well… anyone. It had already almost blew up in his face several times, with the construction of the outdoor altar and setting up chairs and coming up short by at least four (those people would have to stand, sadly).

Jeremy’s mother wasn’t showing up. That had actually made Christine more distressed than it did Jeremy, but Rich still felt guilty for not trying to do more for them. I mean, it’s her son’s  _ wedding _ , and the women didn’t even bother to give them a call back! It made Rich--well, it made Rich very furious, but he figured he shouldn’t be digging in family affairs, so he dropped it.

And then there was the problem of  _ which  _ father would walk Christine down the aisle. The obvious choice would be both, but even that is non-traditional, especially since the aisle was specifically constructed for two people. But Christine insisted that they would make it work, because… well, she couldn’t really  _ choice  _ between her parents, especially since she was persistent in the fact that she didn’t have a favorite.

Rich’s band couldn’t make it, so he had to hire a DJ last minute, no matter how shady he looked. He was glad that food and decorations weren’t any problem, Christine’s bridesmaids had made sure that everything was set and in place.

The location for the wedding was less than normal; they had rented a cottage with a large outdoor space, enough room to fit a carpeted aisle with a homemade alter and a canopy large enough to fit all the guests for the after party. Thankfully, the turnout wasn’t supposed to be that big. A few dozen people from Christine’s and Jeremy’s families, with some friends from college, save for Rich and…

And Michael.

It had struck him very suddenly, the fact that Michael would be there. He was Jeremy’s best man, after all, and Rich didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. Michael would be  _ here _ .  _ Near  _ him. It had struck him so hard, in fact, that he didn’t see where he was walking, and tripped over a stray chair underneath the canopy while setting up.

“Jesus Christ, Rich, please don’t bail on us now,” Jeremy said, running over to help him up. Neither him nor Jeremy were actually dressed yet, even though the actually ceremony was going to begin in an hour and a half. 

Rich was still going around to make sure everything was in place; tablecloths, chairs for tables, centerpieces, plates, the cake…

God, the cake.

Jeremy had never really gotten over his nerd phase. Well, maybe ‘phase’ isn’t the right word, since that implies that at some point, it will end. Rich is sure that Jeremy will  _ never  _ stop being a nerd.

So the cake, in spirit of Jeremy’s eternal nerd-ness, was styled to look like the floor of an arcade. It would have looked pretty cool, if it were for a child’s  _ birthday _ . The cake toppers, however, stayed untouched, because Jeremy at least had the common decency to wear a normal tux to his totally normal wedding.

Well, Christine and Jeremy had never really been the traditional couple.

“I’m fine, it’s just…” Rich pursed his lips, feeling uncomfortable spilling his emotions on his best friend’s soon-to-be-husband. “I’ll be okay.”

“Hey,” Jeremy said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it, helping to calm Rich’s nerves. “You’re doing amazing, dude. We’re lucky to have such an awesome man of honor.” the look in Jeremy’s face was solemn, and Rich didn’t question his sincerity. He could see it.

Rich grinned, but didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. He brushed himself off, and watched Jeremy wave his hand as he walked out of the opening of the canopy. Pushing in the chair that he had tripped over, Rich steeled himself, and decided he would probably be better help with assisting Christine in the task that was getting ready.

The bridesmaids--none of which Rich was very well-acquainted with--had set up their base inside the small cottage, since it was nearly empty and there was enough room for all of them to get ready at once. Rich knocked on the door once, twice, thrice, just to make sure none of them were completely undressed (walking in on someone like that was something that Rich would never be able to live down)

Before Rich could even reach for the doorknob, the door itself opened.

“Rich!” one of Christine’s bridesmaids exclaimed, as if she were excited to see him (Rich felt bad because he honestly didn’t remember what her name was. In fact, he was unsure if it was even mentioned at all). She ushered him to come inside, and was met with several girls, all wearing dresses with varying shades of blue and green.

Christine was sitting on a chair on the other side of the room, facing a mirror that had been hung up on the wall. One of her bridesmaids was doing her hair, the intricate design too complicated for Rich to fully comprehend. “You look good,” Rich said to get her attention, feeling too underdressed to even be in a room with Christine.

“Hi!” Christine said, meeting Rich’s eyes through the mirror. She swats at the hands of the person doing her hair, so she could get up from her chair without any trouble. Lifting her dress so it doesn’t drag across the floor, she crosses the room and pulls Rich into a hug.

“Hi,” Rich responds quietly, scared he’ll ruin the moment. “How’re you holding up?” He whispers, knowing that this whole day had been more stressful for Christine than it had been for him.

He could feel Christine take a deep breath, grabbing at the back of his t-shirt nervously. “I’m… a little nervous. Is that normal? I feel like I should be excited,” she says, rubbing Rich’s back, more to comfort herself more than him. “I mean, I am excited! But… I just feel like something is going to go wrong.”

Rich could understand exactly what she was talking about. A lot of things had already gone wrong, and he tried his best to fix them, and even if they weren’t perfect, he still got the task done to his satisfaction. “And that’s okay,” he says, grabbing Christine’s hand and putting their joined hands down by his side. “If something goes wrong, then… we’ll fix it. This is your day, Christine. You’re allowed to worry about it, but… everything is gonna be fine. That’s why I’m here.”

Christine pulled him down so she could kiss his forehead, and Rich felt suddenly embarrassed when he noticed the bridesmaids staring at him with a collective admiring expression. “Thank you, Rich…” She says, ignoring everyone else. “Now go get dressed. You want to look presentable for when people start showing up.”

“Okay, your highness,” Rich says, only half sarcastically. He pats Christine on the cheek reassuringly, and walks out of the cottage to find where his tux got placed.

* * *

The ceremony itself had been breathtaking.

Of course, Rich didn’t really have anything to compare it to. But, in the order of the lineup, Rich was technically the second to last person to walk down the aisle, right after the bridesmaids and right before Christine herself. So, for a few seconds, him and Christine had a moment to reflect.

“Rich,” Christine whispered when the bridesmaids had walked out to take their place next to the altar. She had both of her arms wrapped around Rich’s, one of them grabbing his hand tightly. “I…” She mutters, her words catching in her throat. “I wanted to thank you. I don’t think I would have been able to do all of this without you.”

Taking a deep breath, Rich squeezes her hand tightly. He wiped at the tears that threatened to spill, hoping that he wouldn’t look like a mess while walking to the altar. “I think I should be the one thanking you.” His lips shaking with the effort it took to keep his emotions at bay. “You helped me find a part of myself I didn’t even know was there. You… you did all of this on your own,” He giggles at the thought, wiping his tears away. “Jeremy was already a promise in your life, that’s for sure,”

Christine was looking at him with an expression he couldn’t quite figure out. It showed intense integrity with a flash of heartache, but accominies by the excitement that would be present on almost anyone’s special day. “Rich, you’re my best friend.  _ My  _ man of honor. The… the day I picked you up from Michael’s house, all those years ago, I didn’t have to  _ think  _ about the consequences, I just… I just knew. I knew there was something about you that I would end up loving,” Christine grinned, looking away bashfully, “Even if I had to wrestle it out of you.”

“Christine, I--” Rich started, but he pulled away. “I gotta go. I’ll… meet you out there, okay?” he said, turning around and quickly wiping thetears from his face before rounding the corner to start his trek down the aisle.

The amount of people that were there surprised him. It was a big turnout, considering the size of his friends’ families, but it still seemed so… small. In his mind, Christine (and Jeremy) deserved a spectacular event with hundreds of people coming to see them, since Rich believed they were  _ that  _ special. But ‘big’ wasn’t really either of their style, so he was content with what he was dealt.

He tried not to make eye contact, knowing he wouldn’t really recognize anyone in any of the families (and the shame of him  _ already  _ crying? It was a little embarrassing, but… Jeremy was crying even harder) But Jake flashed him a grin from the front row, and he couldn’t help but smile.

Rich took his spot on the right side of the altar, giving a small wave to the bridesmaid standing next to him. He looked across the way and tried to discreetly get Jeremy's attention, but he saw that the other was already grinning in his direction.

Jeremy's face, of course, was already stained with tears. Rich had to remember that it was  _ his _ special day as well, not just Christine's, and he smiled when Jeremy gave him two thumbs up. It was hard to imagine that Jeremy went from a panicked, lonely junior in highschool (panicked and lonely enough to get a S.Q.U.I.P, no less) to literally getting  _ married  _ in the matter of a few years. Rich was proud, even though he had almost nothing to do with Jeremy’s happiness.

Well, that honor belonged to Christine herself.

And as everyone in the audience stood up at once, Rich felt himself break a bit. His composure crumbled and he had to stifle any noises he might make while he cried. Christine walked down the aisle, her fathers on either side of her, and it was like the world stood still. Nothing else plagued Rich’s mind in the moment, and he was finally focused on the present. The past didn’t matter, and neither did the future; all that mattered was right now, he was happy. And maybe he could be happy tomorrow, too. And the next day. And the one after that…

Christine took her place on the right side of the altar, facing Jeremy. Their fingers interlocked, and it seemed like they couldn’t look away from each other. The priest raised a book and spoke, but all of the words seemed drowned out.

The vows themselves went far too quick, but maybe because Rich seemed to be functioning in a daze. His eyes were misted over, and he couldn’t focus his attention on anything else other than the couple before him. He could hear the words being spoken, but it was like they were going in through one ear and out the other. If someone were to ask him to repeat the vows, he’d probably stumble over his words.

What finally broke him out of his trance, however, was the exchange of the rings. Once the priest handed them over, Jeremy (who looked like he could barely contain himself) gently took Christine’s hand, slipping the band over her ring finger, and Christine did the same for him. They both looked at each other with such joy, letting out a shuddering breath before Jeremy lifted Christine up to spin her around and kiss her.

The crowd cheered, and Rich whistled loudly, knowing if he were to talk now it would only come out as a garbled mess because of his emotional state.

* * *

The reception was a lot livelier, to Rich’s delight. If there was one thing he could do, it was party. Crying at a wedding was definitely not his forte, but partying? That’s something he could get behind.

Out of courtesy, they had cut the cake first (Christine had immediately shoved her slice into Jeremy’s face, but he clearly didn’t have the guts to do it back, because he merely allowed her to take a bite out of his slice despite being blinded by cake, while Christine--and literally any other sensible person-- struggled to not laugh too hard) 

Rich was quietly eating his own slice of cake when Jeremy approached him soon after the incident. He had wiped most of the cake remnants off with a napkin--probably with the help of some other guests, and Christine--but he still had some frosting around his hairline and near his eyebrows.

Jeremy sat down next to him and leaned in closer, “Hey, dude.” he greeted, something clearly on his mind.

“Hey, Jere,” Rich responded, swallowing a piece of his cake while trying not to stare too hard on the extra frosting that remained on the other’s face.

He fiddled with his hands on his lap, like when he did when he was thinking about a hard topic but didn’t know how to mention it. Well, Rich kind of knew exactly what he was going to say, but he tried giving him the benefit of the doubt. “So, uh… Michael’s here.” he says, which was kind of fucking obvious at this point.

“I know,” Rich mutters, not able to meet Jeremy’s eyes. “I kind of figured, since, you know… You guys are still close. This is your wedding, afterall.”

“Oh,” Jeremy says awkwardly, “I guess that makes sense,” he rubs the back of his neck nervously, looking around the canopy, probably to look for Christine for further support. “I mean, Christine thinks--I…  _ I  _ think that you should talk to him. It’s been a really long time, and--and he’s talked about you before, so--”

“Wait,” Rich cuts him off, “He’s talked about me? Recently?”

Jeremy stops, and shrugs as if it were no big deal. “Yeah, the last time I saw him was a month or two ago, but he always asks me how you’re doing, and like… I dunno, whenever I ask him if he’s gonna like, talk to you, he always just says, ‘One day’, and never brings it up again,”

Rich thinks the words over, and wonders if it would be worth it to go over and talk to Michael. To be fair, if Michael wanted to talk to  _ him,  _ he probably would have done that already, but he hasn’t (that is, unless, Michael was waiting for him to make the first move, but Rich didn’t hope too hard for that, just in case)

“If--If you’re over him, then that’s fine too, but like--” Jeremy started, but Rich held up a hand to stop him in the middle of his sentence.

“Where is he?” Rich asks, trying not to make his survey of the canopy too obvious. Jeremy silently pointed to the farthest right corner, and Rich could see Michael laughing and talking to a guest he didn’t recognize. (Rich felt a pang of jealousy, but he quickly shoved that down before it could manifest any further).

Feeling suddenly bold, Rich got up from his seat, winking down at Jeremy who looked away in embarrassment. He walked over to the other side of the canopy, not catching Michael’s attention until he got much closer.

“Hey. You wanna take a walk?” Rich asked, acting as calm as he could, even if his heart started beating as soon as the words came out of his mouth.

Michael opened his mouth, and turned to the person he was talking to. “Sure,” He says, smiling, and waves the other person ‘goodbye’. Both began walking to the exit to the canopy, and Michael set down his cup at a stray table for later.

Once outside, Rich stretched his arms above his head, feeling confined in his suit. “Do you think they made tuxedos for the specific purpose of making people uncomfortable?” he said, hoping that flowing into conversation easily would make this less difficult. 

Michael laughed, surprised at the sudden question, “What?” he snickers, clearly caught off guard. “I think they just made tuxes to be fancy. I really don’t think there would be any reason for them to make tuxes for any other reason.”

“Okay, but like… aren’t you always uncomfortable in any formal situation? But you  _ look  _ fancy, so you keep buying the clothing because you think that’s what’s good for you. But showing up in like, a meat suit is a lot easier.” Rich jokes, surprised at how well the conversation flowed. It was almost as if they were never apart (which made him even more nervous).

Rich gets a gentle shove from that remark, and an ever more gentle laugh (he had forgotten how much he liked Michael’s laugh). “Now you’re just referencing Lady Gaga.” he says frankly, ignoring Rich’s first argument.

Gesturing wildly with his hands, Rich continues on his rant. “Of course I’m mentioning Lady Gaga! Don’t be a drag, just be a queen, Mikey,”

“Did you just call me--” Michael starts, cutting himself off with his own laughter. “I don’t think I’ve heard that nickname in a really long time,”

“Is it… okay?” Rich questions, leaning in closer than he intends. Maybe he’s just magnetically attracted to Michael, so he can’t stay too far away from him. He’s always drawn back. But maybe he was just dreaming, and maybe Michael wasn’t interested in him anymore. (Rich kept his hope close, just in case something big happens)

Michael turns to him and grins, “I mean, it’s probably childish now. That’s something my mothers called me when I was around… I don’t know, eight?” He shrugged, clearly not focused on the details of his story.

“I don’t know about you, but I think it’s pretty great,” Rich says, beaming over dramatically. All of a sudden, Michael stops walking to face Rich, and the latter did the same, not really knowing what was going on. The other seemed to look at him for what seemed longer than necessary, but he had a look on his face like he was contemplating something.

“Can I kiss you?” Michael asks, and Rich’s heart almost stopped. As if he just realized what he said, Michael’s face flushes, “Or--or not! I don’t… I’m sorry, I don’t know if you’re with someone right now, that was really stupid of me to ask, I just--”

Rich grabbed his arms and pulled him down, effectively cutting him off with a kiss. Michael came through and immediately leaned into it, carefully cradling Rich’s lower back, as if he didn’t know where was safe to touch.

It was brief enough to be chaste, and Rich let out a breath when he pulled away. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” He says jokingly, even if he was being honest.

“Woah,” Michael said simply, his eyes still closed, as if he was still trying to come up with a reaction. Finally, he opened his eyes, and he met Rich’s gaze with a smile. “I’m gonna assume that’s an invitation,” he said simply, pulling Rich closer from where his hand had settled on his back.

“Maybe it is. You’ll have to wait and see,” Rich said with a wink, hoping his teasing nature came through.

“I was gonna approach you before you left, but… I feel like this is as good of a time as any,” Michael says, shifting his weight from side to side. “Do you… happen to want to get a coffee sometime? Maybe when I’m off work, we could drive somewhere in between our colleges?”

“You wanna get a  _ coffee? _ ” Rich asks, a little incredulous. “What are we, children?” he raises his hands to start to say something, but clamps his mouth shut. Grabbing Michael’s hand, he continues. “Michael James Mell--”

“Middle name wasn’t necessary,”

“--I am going to take you out on a proper date, like the gentleman I am. So, with that being said, do you want to come to my concert this Sunday?” he finished, ignoring Michael’s retort.

Michael snorts, rubbing his thumb across Rich’s knuckles. “You have a band?” he asks, a little surprised, but he also has a knowing look, which makes Rich giddy with excitement.

“Yeah, of course I do! It’s me and some of my buddies from college. We really only do covers, but I bet you we’ll blow your socks off!” Rich responds, overly excited to be talking about his band to Michael (oh god,  _ Michael _ ).

“You’ll probably blow more than just my socks off,” Michael whispers, sticking his tongue out playfully. 

“Uh, no, we’re gonna do this the right way,” Rich starts, sticking his tongue out in retaliation. “As much as I’d love to get some of that ass--” Michael raised an eyebrow at this comment, “It’s all gonna come naturally, babe. We’ve gotta get to a  _ minimum  _ of our third date without trying anything raunchy.”

Michael rolls his eyes, but smiles. “Alright. If those are your terms, then I accept. And I’m free Sunday, so you’ll have to text me the venue and time.”

Rich leans up to give Michael a small peck on the lips, “Alright then, it's a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay wow. WOW. when i first started this silly little project I didn't even believe i'd ever get it finished, but here I am. The emotions I am feeling are indescribable. i knew that a wedding was going to be where i ended this off, and I'm satisfied with how it went. let die to let live is finally over (i will probably be posting little drabbles and oneshots of some unseen scenes, but the story of this universe has pretty much come to a close)
> 
> There are so many people I want to thank for this, even if they aren't reading this right now. My sister, first off, who listens to my rambles about expensive headphones despite knowing little to nothing about be more chill, and who helped me plan the wedding because i had no idea what i was doing.
> 
> And to Jordan, my best friend, my rock, and to the person who supported this entire project since the very bare-bone beginning. Thank you for screaming at me after every update, and motivating me to actually do the damn thing. I literally couldn't have done it without you. And I know there's a low chance you're even reading this right now, but if you are, I just wanted to say that no matter where you are, or what you do, I'll always be in your corner, even if I'm not there to see it. I'm glad I get to call you a friend. Missing you. Hope to hear from you soon.
> 
> And to YOU!!! yes, YOU! All of you readers who leave hits and kudos and comments and what have you. Because trust me, I DO see them, and I DO appreciate each and every one of them. Thank you all for being here through this and reading all my little ideas.
> 
> and even though this series is finished, I'm far from done with writing, so hit me up with any ideas or just to talk (because that's clear with how long this end note is...)   
my tumblr AND instagram are captaincremepuff!!!


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